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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790056">Infinite Choices</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monarch_Actual/pseuds/Monarch_Actual'>Monarch_Actual</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Halo (Video Games) &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:55:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monarch_Actual/pseuds/Monarch_Actual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Human Covenant War in the rear view mirror, Morgan Bailey is convinced by a pair of old friends that her stint as a Spartan isn't quite done. Stepping aboard the UNSC Infinity will set in motion more than she signed up for and threaten to undo years of change in a woman that got out alive once. Sequel to The Flame of Nobility, and a novelization of Halo 4.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Brought Back to Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Opening notes: Here we go again. Plenty of people looked for more to come about with this, judging by the reviews that were left. I'll admit I've gotten more attached to Morgan than any other character I've made in basically anything. So for all of you that wanted to see more of her, you're in luck. One of these days I'll put a permanent book end on her story, but that day isn't today. Hopefully I can fix some of the things I wasn't all that happy with that Halo 4 and 5 did. With all that said, thanks for joining me on yet another trip into the Nobleverse (I really need to get a better name for it).</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>"<em>War is the mother fucking answer"</em></p>
<p>Corporal Ray Person, United States Marine Corps</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Unknown Time</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Unknown Location</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>The air was cool, perfectly climate controlled, and mid day sunlight was peeking through the windows into a spacious living room. A sweat stained ballcap sat on a small table next to the back door, dirty boots on the hard wood floor beneath it. The windows in the door were blocked only by partially opened blinds, and showed more than a little unsettled dirt in the back yard, several plastic containers sitting on an outside table between a quartet of chairs, a concrete patio bleached by the sun completing the image. Some of the containers were empty, save for crumbles of dirt, and others still bore their colorful contents, flowers itching to follow the sun in its trek across the sky.</p>
<p>Water ceased its torrent from the nozzle over the sink, and silence returned to the interior of the home. A tanned woman stood over the sink with a cup of water in her hand, tracks on her face from sweat marking their travel from matted black hair down to a thick neck still rippling with concealed energy. A tank top held tightly to her frame, still form fitting despite having had to resort to using a men's size shirt. It was stained with that same sweat that had made its way down her forehead, and her skin glistened in the overhead lights. Powerful arms, corded heavily with muscle and more than a few scars, escaped from the confines of the shirt.</p>
<p>Freshly washed hands no longer held caked on dirt, washed studiously by their owner until they were clean again, albeit a little raw from scrubbing. A washcloth waited on the corner of the sink, still cold from the water that had been on it, came up and pressed against her face, wiping some of the sweat away and cooling her down before she took the glass and her washcloth into the living room, nothing separating it from the dining room and kitchen except for an invisible boundary and a wall that the kitchen and dining room shared turning away and widening out, leading into the front hallway. The home had been built with an open floor plan, and it had grown on the woman.</p>
<p>Plopping down onto one of the more comfortable couches, the glass of water remained in her hand, already condensing from the slowly melting ice cubes inside. The washcloth went up and sat on her forehead, obscuring emerald green eyes as the woman gave a sigh of relief, relaxing back against the couch and sitting quietly for a time. There was still more work to be done, but it wasn't anything that would be lost forever if a break was had.</p>
<p>Footsteps on hard wood, the dull crack of boot soles on the floor, and the washcloth raised off of one of the eyes, a tired expression and a raised eyebrow meeting the brown eyes of another woman, one clad in a uniform, rather than the lax tank top and jeans, and far less sweaty.</p>
<p>"I thought Spartans didn't take breaks," the newcomer questioned, arms crossed and an ever present smirk hanging off of her lips.</p>
<p>"This one does."</p>
<p>Amber Bailey gave an amused huff as she sat on the couch next to her wife, slyly reaching out and grabbing her hand. Morgan took a deep breath, but her own lips let a hint of a smile come onto them.</p>
<p>"How's it going so far?" Hocus sat in a way that let her keep her eyes on the larger woman.</p>
<p>"Well, actually. Most of the plants are in the ground, some are in planters, a couple of the hooks have been put up and their pots hung with them. Still some more to go, but..." She trailed off.</p>
<p>Her wife's smile softened from its smirk, one of genuine pleasure. "Thought they'd last you longer than just a day. You're gonna run out of things to do at this rate."</p>
<p>Morgan shrugged. "Never leave a job half finished and all that."</p>
<p>"It's not half finished if you do it across a couple of days rather than buying out a flower shop's stock and then dumping it all into the ground in the span of a day. Are you putting all of them in the back yard?"</p>
<p>Another shrug. "The front yard has bushes in it."</p>
<p>Amber raised an eyebrow. "You know you can still hang some of them out there, and there's dedicated spots for flowers, right?"</p>
<p>The Spartan seemed to shrink a bit. "I don't like people being able to see me work."</p>
<p>"Our neighbors can look out their window and see you work."</p>
<p>A quiet whine as she looked away from the pilot, barely audible. "<em>Still</em>."</p>
<p>Amber sighed, her smile becoming a little too powerful and white teeth shining through. Her mouth opened up to say something, but Morgan never heard it. Then the warmth of her hand was gone, all softness taken away and replaced by something cold, something hard.</p>
<p>Morgan frowned, looking back over, and saw something that she had lost years ago. A battered and ruined set of Mjolnir Mark VI stared back at her. The helmet was completely ruined, several heavy dents in the top and sides of it marring the smooth surface and ruining the blocky UNSC stenciling on it. The golden visor was marred with dust and cracked, a large hole broken through the visor where the wearers left eye would be, showing only an inky blackness. The altered chest piece was crumpled in the center, bare titanium staring her in the face, and deep cracks spiderwebbed out from the deep gouge where something had nearly crushed the heavy armor.</p>
<p>Morgan went to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry, too dry to function, and no words escaped her mouth as her lips split open soundlessly. The house around her disappeared as the walls crumbled and melted, turning red hot, and disintegrated until nothing was left. All around her, the outside of her home, the verdant mountainside, the other homes, the city below, the blue sky, all of it was gone, replaced by the mottled gray and orange sky of a world long gone.</p>
<p>Smoke and flames filled the sky, and a mountain in the distance climbed into that wounded sky, splitting halfway up and becoming two. The dirt and sand on the ground, filled with dead vegetation and the remains of several armored figures, both Human and alien, lost all definition and gave way to a sea of glass, still red hot around the edges.</p>
<p>She took it all in within an instant, and her throat closed up as she looked back into that empty hole in the visor, and a green eye stared back, empty of emotion or fire. A shadow passed overhead, but try as she might, there was no looking up. Only the sound of an energy projector firing. A flash across the shattered visor, and everything went black.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>June 7th, 2557</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Town of Cascadia</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>United Republic of North America</em>
</p>
<p>Wisps of steam rose from a coffee mug that sat on an oaken table, a small crown painted on the white ceramic. Another sat across from it, bare of any designs, with its own fill of the caffeinated liquid. It was darker, nigh on black, in comparison to the crowned mug's cocoa colored contents.</p>
<p>There was no sound in the room, save for the incessant ticking of a clock mounted on the far wall, ticking off every second that passed between the two occupants of a spacious living room, having changed over the years from how it had been found late one evening.</p>
<p>A dog barking in the distance, audible through the walls of the home, brought a pair of green eyes back to life, looking over a datapad filled with information, before they went back up and met brown. A man in a black uniform sat across from her, the pyramid of the Office of Naval Intelligence on the left breast panel, and a pair of stars caught the light as a ray of sunlight popped through a nearby window.</p>
<p>A scarred hand set the datapad back on the table, and the woman that controlled that hand sat forward, her elbows on her knees as she propped herself up, frowning slightly. She held the gaze of the man sitting across from her, Asiatic features firm and somewhat bulky, a thick set neck. The wheelchair was gone, a pair of cybernetic prosthetics having taken their place at the end of what had been stumps three years before.</p>
<p>"You know, once, I'd have jumped at the offer, but now I'm not so sure."</p>
<p>Morgan Bailey's voice filled the quiet interior of her home, echoes absorbed by the pictures on the wall, of the items that had been picked up over the years and put in their places.</p>
<p>"I know you would have."</p>
<p>Adam Greer, now with another admiral's star on his collar, responded with a look that was practiced neutrality.</p>
<p>"So why come to me now?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow. Her hands came together, fingers interlacing as she waited for his answer. She had read the report on the datapad, had watched the news, still had at least one contact in the military.</p>
<p>"You're the best." It was said almost matter of factly, as if that would be enough for her to sign on the dotted line. It only made her gaze narrow.</p>
<p>"There are others."</p>
<p>"Not like what we need."</p>
<p>"What is it that you need, exactly?"</p>
<p>"A leader."</p>
<p>Morgan's thin lips pursed, growing ever thinner, a tight line that held her words back for a moment. "Not what I was asking. You have plenty that could fill the role. Plenty of other Spartans that could be taken and put into the slot. It's not like I'm the only one with an officer's rank."</p>
<p>Greer frowned. "It's not black and white. There are still some IIs that are active, but most of them work in their own fire teams. Messing that up wouldn't do us any good. Plenty of IIIs have already been pulled into the program, but even the best aren't equipped to lead anything more than a detachment, especially with the issues the Gammas suffer from."</p>
<p>"And what about the IVs? There are plenty of them, almost all of them leaders in their own right. ODSTs, Force Recon, Delta. All kinds of operators are in the program. Not a single one of them is up to the task?"</p>
<p>His frown deepened, and he sat back against the comfortable couch that sat across from her. Wrinkles had cropped up on his face over the years, most of them stress lines, and he scratched at his jaw. "There are a few, but those are already in the higher levels of the program. IIs that washed out of their augmentations, and a III acting as a recruiter and co-director. They already have their hands full with administrative work and they're in too deep to just reassign them."</p>
<p>Green eyes narrowed. "Who's the three?"</p>
<p>Greer's lips pursed, enough to push some of the color out of them. "Sierra-A266. Almost all of the candidates have been hand picked by him. With the Infinity billet open, he recommended we seek you out."</p>
<p>"His words carry plenty of weight with me. He had to have known that. Why didn't he come to me himself, then?"</p>
<p>"He did."</p>
<p>As if Greer had called out, there came a knock at the door, and Morgan's eyes locked on to it. With a moment's pause, the door knob turned and a man stepped in, a black suit covering a large frame. A bald head revealed a tattoo with three arrow across the left temple that wrapped around half of the skull, only visible as the man closed the door behind him and locked it.</p>
<p>Turning back to the two in the room, blue eyes met Morgan's green, and a thin smile came to the man's face. "Six, good to see you again."</p>
<p>Morgan stood up, her mouth suddenly dry. She had always known that Jun was still alive, ever since Greer had first let it slip, but she had never seen him again after that final encounter on Reach. "Jun, likewise."</p>
<p>She tried to swallow, to make it easier to talk, but her body refused to cooperate, and she closed the distance until she got close enough to wrap her arms around him, holding the former Noble Three in a tight grip.</p>
<p>Jun returned the gesture, but it didn't last long, as Morgan pried herself away and awkwardly gestured to the couch that Greer sat on, before returning to her own seat. Silence held for a few moments before she spoke up. "So you recommended me."</p>
<p>Jun nodded. "Would have done it sooner, but you retired, figured you deserved a break after all that you had been through. Clearance told me plenty, Greer told me the rest. All that happened at the end told me you were a no go."</p>
<p>"But you're coming to me now, after I've been settled in for as long as I have."</p>
<p>Another nod. "Like he's already probably said, you're the best for the job. A capable leader in your own right, lethal enough to survive nearly anything, and your service record means that the IVs will follow you anywhere. You've proven yourself, and they all know what you're capable of. Nobody else has that."</p>
<p>She frowned, crossing her arms. As happy as she was to see Jun, and Greer, it wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. She had spent the last months of the war wallowing in loss and exhaustion, had spent the years after learning how to be more than a war machine. Now she was being asked to come back.</p>
<p>Looking away from the two, she glanced out the window that led to the back yard of her home. It wasn't very large, and it sloped up slowly to meet the back yard of another house that could be reached by going up the road, hitting a switchback, and following the road up again. It would end after four more turns, leading to a mountain trail that she had used plenty of times.</p>
<p>Life was good for the Spartan, calm and peaceful, the nightmares had stopped for the most part, although they came back on bad nights. She didn't have a job because she didn't need one, but she stayed in shape. She helped out in town sometimes, volunteered on hiking trips, acted as a first responder during the winter months when snowfall got heavy and people inevitably got trapped even with all of their preparations.</p>
<p>She had a purpose that was her own, for once. A nice home, a loving wife, and she was happy. What more could anybody ask?</p>
<p>Greer and Jun looked at each other quietly, before looking back to her, and she finally met their eyes again. Morgan made to say something, but the sound of keys entering a lock preceded the front door opening, and a female voice called out to her, tinged with a southern accent that had never faded.</p>
<p>"I'm home!" Amber 'Hocus' Bailey entered her home, still clad in the gray fatigues of a pilot, a ready bag hanging off of her shoulder with personal gear that she kept on hand just in case of a need for rapid deployment, a standard procedure for pilots after the Great War.</p>
<p>"Welcome home," Morgan replied to her wife, watching as the brunette pulled a patrol cap off of her head and undid the bun her hair had been kept in. Wavy hair fell down to just below her shoulders, and she shook her head to fan it out.</p>
<p>"Who are our visitors?" She asked, brown eyes not missing the ONI patch or the two stars Greer wore on his collar, or the man in the black suit.</p>
<p>Gesturing to each of them in turn, Morgan introduced the two, and Amber moved to sit next to the Spartan. "Rear Admiral Adam Greer, Office of Naval Intelligence and my former handler, and Jun, someone I've worked with in the past, Spartan branch."</p>
<p>At the word Spartan, Amber's eyes turned on Morgan, narrowing slightly. "Spartan makes me think they're here for something."</p>
<p>Greer spoke up before Morgan could. "We are. She's been tapped by ONI and the Navy to command a Spartan detachment on the <em>Infinity</em>."</p>
<p>Amber whistled, sitting back against the back of the couch she and Morgan shared, leaning against the arm rest and propping her head up on her hand. "Big posting. Big crew too, high profile." Glancing at her wife, she went on. "What are you thinking so far?"</p>
<p>Morgan returned the look, shrugging slightly. "It's a big change, sudden, but… I don't know how to feel about it."</p>
<p>Greer spoke up. "It doesn't need to be immediate, but the sooner the better. If you need time to think about it, we can give you up to a week. We can also give concessions if you have any requests."</p>
<p>Morgan simply nodded. "Give me a week, time to think about all of it. It's… a big decision now."</p>
<p>Standing, Greer grunted. "Of course. We'll return a week from now, or if you call for us sooner. You still have my contact information?" Another nod. "Good. The datapad will keep the information until midnight tonight, and can only be accessed by you. You know more than anyone the security risk, so keep it safe. I look forward to seeing your answer." Grabbing his cap, he made for the door, Jun giving her a nod as he followed the admiral.</p>
<p>Opening the door, Jun exited first, and Greer pulled the peaked cap back onto his head. Thanking her for the coffee, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.</p>
<p>As if that was her cue, Amber scooted closer, leaning up against the bigger form of her wife, grabbing one of her hands. Amber's hands still weren't as large as Morgan's, but they fit well together when it was Morgan holding hers. That didn't deter her, however.</p>
<p>"Were you expecting anyone?"</p>
<p>"No. They just showed up."</p>
<p>"Sounds like a good deal if you wanna go back someday."</p>
<p>Morgan frowned, looking down at their hands, one barely covered by the other. "I won't lie, I've thought about it sometimes. I've had dreams of it. I always thought I wouldn't make it out, but now that I have, I don't know if I should go back in."</p>
<p>"Why's that?"</p>
<p>"It was hard enough getting out the first time. Doing it twice? I don't think so. Knowing my luck, I'll-"</p>
<p>"<em>Ah</em>." Amber's quick admonishment had Morgan's mouth shut with a muted click, her teeth coming together.</p>
<p>"Sorry," she said, apologizing. The pilot had done plenty in the way of dealing with her wife's fatalistic outlook that cropped up sometimes. It had never truly left, popping up from time to time, but immediately after the war had been the worst.</p>
<p>"If just thinking about this brings that mindset back up, is it even a good idea to go?"</p>
<p>She shrugged. "Who knows. I like our life here, I like what we have. But it's hard, sometimes. I get that pull, wanting to go back to it all. Restlessness. Then there's the times that you've left, and I've been here alone."</p>
<p>Amber frowned. "Deployments are never easy when you're married, it seems. I've yet to meet any spousal couple who's not had their rocky bits during a tour."</p>
<p>Morgan looked down at her. "Rocky bits?"</p>
<p>"Fights, loneliness, stuff like that."</p>
<p>"I see." A period of silence. "What do you think?"</p>
<p>Another beat. "I think it's up to you. You lived your whole life in it, nearly died a couple of times, lost everyone. I don't mean to sound like a downer, but..."</p>
<p>She trailed off, letting the words hang as she rested her head against her wife's shoulder, closing her eyes mostly as she looked down at their entwined hands, her thumb rubbing across the scars that crossed the back of the Spartan's hand.</p>
<p>Morgan didn't respond for a time, and the two sat in silence. For years, it had been something they'd both enjoyed. Two warriors that had lived during some of the most chaotic years of the war, where gunfire and explosions were just the natural ambiance. They had spent more than one night without a single word between them. Talk wasn't always needed, and they were both happy simply in the other's company. Too many years living with the rumble of distant combat or the roar of engines left a subtle appreciation for silence between the two.</p>
<p>Eventually, a deep exhale came from her, and her own eyes turned down to look at their hands. "It wouldn't be like it was before, would it?"</p>
<p>Amber looked up at her again. "Watcha mean?"</p>
<p>"I mean… there's no big war anymore, right? The stakes wouldn't be near as high, we wouldn't have our backs against the wall. Plus, there'd be IVs going out, and not me."</p>
<p>"So you mean that you'd be able to get the benefit of going back to that life, without the danger and risks associated with it." A nod. "Then it sounds like you already know what to expect. If nothing else, it'd be a cushy desk job. Better than slogging through mud and aliens."</p>
<p>Morgan's lips quirked up in a hint of a smile. "You're right. What about you, though? You're attached to <em>Chiron Blue, </em>right?"</p>
<p>"We'll get sent where we need to go. Why?"</p>
<p>"Just wondering," she replied.</p>
<p>Amber's eyes narrowed and she met her wife's eyes. "You're never just wondering about anything."</p>
<p>Morgan's smile grew a little more. "Well, they did offer to accommodate some requests if I had any..."</p>
<p>That got an admonishing look from the pilot. "Nepotism's a bitch."</p>
<p>"Maybe, but if I do go, I don't wanna go without you," the Spartan replied.</p>
<p>Amber's admonishment faded, melting away at those words. "I'm not surprised. You're like a lost puppy when it comes to me. If you're gonna do this, at least use the full week to think about it and what else you might want? It's a big move after so long out and your circumstances in particular. See what else you can milk out of ONI in return for your services."</p>
<p>"I promise," she answered. That was enough to appease the smaller woman. Amber knew enough about her wife at this point to know that any time promise was uttered, it would be honored, no matter how big or small. A momentary thought back to the first time Morgan had said it to her, their wedding day. Small, not many people, no strict dress code, but plenty of booze.</p>
<p>
  <em>When I make a promise, I keep it.</em>
</p>
<p>With another nod, Amber pulled her hand out of Morgan's looking up at her wife and planting a light kiss on the Spartan's cheek. "Good. Now, I need to get out of these fatigues."</p>
<p>Standing from the couch, Amber moved away, disappearing up the stairs and into their room. Now, alone, Morgan sat for a few moments, staring off into nothingess, before she broke out of it again. Reaching for a book that had been left abandoned on the coffee table, the big woman resumed reading what Greer had interrupted: <em>Spartans: Humanity's Last Line</em>, by Jennifer Hall. A documentary had been made years before, and been turned into a book later on. It was one she had never really looked into until recently.</p>
<p>It seemed the universe had decided to throw her another curve ball.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The week came and went, the proposal always in the back of the Spartan's mind. The datapad had wiped itself clean, and when the black car from before stopped on the street in front of her house, Morgan was outside waiting with it.</p>
<p>There was no car in her driveway, Amber having left for work hours ago, and she wouldn't return for several more. That left just her to greet Greer and Jun when they made their way up the empty driveway. She noticed Jun had a small bag with him</p>
<p>Standing before they made it to her, she opened the door and gestured them inside. However short this visit might be, prying eyes were always watching, and with the two moving inside before she shut the door, she noticed the blinds in Kris' house had been slightly parted, before quickly falling into place as she looked over. Sweet woman, but nosey.</p>
<p>Shutting the door behind her, Morgan saw the two had already sat down on the same couch. "Coffee? Water?" She asked them, an eyebrow quirked.</p>
<p>Both shook their heads. "No, thank you," Greer started. "We shouldn't take too long for this."</p>
<p>"You could have just sent something."</p>
<p>"Not our call," he answered.</p>
<p>"Fair enough." Sitting across from them, Morgan held out the datapad. With the message deleted, it was little more than an empty datapad, a blank screen. "I've decided to accept, with a few requests."</p>
<p>Greer nodded, taking the datapad and handing it to Jun, who took it and tucked it away in his bag, before pulling another small terminal out and handed it over. "Name them."</p>
<p>"I want my wife transferred with me. Same posting, same berthing."</p>
<p>Greer paused for a moment, before he nodded, typing the request into the terminal. "Alright, what else?"</p>
<p>"I want the freedom to adjust my armor as I see fit."</p>
<p>"That…" He frowned slightly. "Fine, we can accept that."</p>
<p>"Lastly, I want one of the remaining Sabers adjusted and sent aboard for my personal use."</p>
<p>A deeper frown. "That one might be harder to do, but I'll see if I can. No promises."</p>
<p>Morgan pursed her lips, but nodded. "So be it. I'll sign your contract."</p>
<p>He stood from the couch and moved to her, holding out the terminal. "Please stare into the camera for a moment for retinal scan."</p>
<p>Adjusting herself on the seat, she looked into the small lens at the top of the terminal, before a laser scanned her right eye, grunting at the discomfort it brought.</p>
<p>Pulling the terminal back, Greer handed it off to Jun, who stood up and put it back in his bag. With their job here finished, the two made their way for the door. Greer turned back to her before he left, his frown still in place.</p>
<p>"Your wife will get her orders tomorrow from her command. We've drafted yours already in preparation for your agreement. You'll have to make a trip to Fort Garrett and get fitted for uniforms and your tech suit, as well as an issuing of any essentials you need. First tour will last a year, contract for four, a Pelican transport will wait for you at the same location, it leaves three days from now at 0900. Please make your arrangements in a timely manner and report to the flight line in your tech suit for immediate armor fitting once aboard."</p>
<p>With an exhale, his face softened. "There, official speech over. I won't be accompanying you onboard, unfortunately. Shouldn't be much in the way of contact, but there have been reports of raiders in the fringe and a Covenant Remnant. Nothing <em>Infinity</em> can't handle, but…" He trailed off. "Be careful."</p>
<p>Holding his hand out to her, she took it and they shook. Bidding her farewell, he left, the black car pulling away as she stood at the door with her arms crossed, a frown on her face. She needed to get things in order. Her home would be left for a year without anyone to take care of it. She would need help.</p>
<p>With her frown still plastered on, she stepped outside, aiming for the house across the street. Without opening the glass door, she rang the doorbell and waited for all of three seconds, before the inner door opened and Kris looked out at her.</p>
<p>Morgan forced a smile as she stepped back and the older woman opened the door, as bubbly as she always was. "Hello, Morgan! What can I help you with?"</p>
<p>Over the years, Kris had helped her with more than she could remember. There had been long periods of time where Morgan had shut herself away, but her neighbor had always come to check on her if nothing else, leaving baked goods or invitations to community events.</p>
<p>"I hate to ask on such short notice, but I'll need someone to take care of my home while I'm away. I'll be leaving for a year, I can't say why."</p>
<p>Kris' normally smiling outlook faltered for a moment, but didn't completely drop. "Oh, yes, I can watch it for you. Do you only need the outside or the inside as well?"</p>
<p>"The outside, mainly, my garden and lawn, but I have food that'll spoil. I'll bring a key over before I leave at some point and whatever's left can be taken out if you want it. Otherwise, it'll have to be thrown away."</p>
<p>Kris nodded, and Morgan's smile tightened slightly. "Of course, that's not a problem at all. Will Amber be going with you or…?"</p>
<p>Morgan nodded. "She'll be away as well, unfortunately."</p>
<p>"I see. We'll have to go out before you leave then! A whole year without you is gonna feel like forever!"</p>
<p>A momentary chuckle from the Spartan. "Definitely. Tomorrow night, we'll have dinner together. Sound good?"</p>
<p>"Perfect!"</p>
<p>"Alright, I need to get back and start prepping, but thank you for this, I'll have to repay you somehow when I get back."</p>
<p>"I look forward to it!"</p>
<p>Pulling herself away from the other woman after thanking her again and telling her goodbye, Morgan was back in her house less than a minute later, her smile gone and feeling a little more exhausted.</p>
<p>Thinking back on those times that she had wanted nothing more than to stop the fighting, it seemed like she was making a mistake going back into it. It had only taken losing everyone and ending the war on some far off alien installation to get out alive, and here she was running back to it.</p>
<p>It would be alright though, wouldn't it? More than once so far, she had been left in an empty home, with Amber sent off on another ship with another squadron. Rarely did she ever deal with actual combat on those patrols, save for minor skirmishes. Now they would be together, at least, and she would be a commander, stuck with making sure the IVs were ready for whatever came their way rather than her being in the line of fire. Even then, who would try and attack the <em>Infinity</em>? Nothing would make it through that ship.</p>
<p>Putting her hand to her face and wiping her eyes, she frowned. It wasn't even three in the afternoon and she wanted to lie down and go to sleep. She needed to eat as well, at some point. It had been different being able to take a break when she wanted, eating when she wanted, sleeping when she wanted. She had gotten used to it all, had learned to like it. It would be different moving away from her own home and back onto an actual ship.</p>
<p>But it couldn't be helped now. She would have to get herself back into the mindset that the military required. Forcing herself up from the couch, she decided to try and get herself into a positive mentality, and she needed to cook dinner anyway before Amber returned home.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The promised day came quickly, time blowing past in the blink of an eye. Hefting the same bag that she had carried all of her belongings in when she got out of the military all those years ago, Morgan felt it settle on her shoulder, stepping out of the car that had gone to transport them. Her Warthog and Amber's personal vehicle were locked away in their garage, safe from the elements, and Kris would keep her garden and the inside of their home clean and tidy.</p>
<p>Amber stood on the opposite side, already clothed in fatigues that she was more than comfortable with. Morgan fidgeted slightly in the tight confines of the tech suit she wore, having spent so long in loose fitting civilian clothes. Well, not loose fitting, but none of them had the skin tight suction of Mjolnir's undersuits.</p>
<p>Amber bumped into her as she moved around the back of the car. "Feeling alright, <em>Commander</em>?</p>
<p>Morgan gave her a small smile. "I'm fine. Don't get too chummy, we need to make a good first impression."</p>
<p>A snort. "Girl scout."</p>
<p>That got an admonishing look from the Spartan, green eyes turning on her with a look that said to be careful, but there was a flicker of amusement in them. She didn't say anything further, though. Already, the sound of a Pelican's thruster wash was nearly deafening in her ears. The flight line was empty, save for this one bird. The bay door was already open, the crew chief the only occupant. It seemed that they would be flying alone.</p>
<p>Making their way to it, they situated themselves and, strapping in, the crew chief shut the bay door and muttered into his headset that they were clear for lift off.</p>
<p>It didn't take long for the Pelican to pick up speed, pointing up at a steep angle of attack and making for orbit. Morgan frowned as she felt the ship pull away, while gravity fought to keep hold of her. Amber, on the other hand, seemed more than comfortable, bored even, but her fingers tapping at her thigh was enough for Morgan to remember that the pilot hated not being in control of the bird if at all possible.</p>
<p>Eventually, gravity slacked off until its grip had been shook away, and the Pelican made for <em>Infinity</em>. Half an hour more of flight and the bird decelerated, sliding into one of the hangars and touching down as if it had all been controlled by an AI rather than the Human pilot that she could hear even now coming over the intercomm to report touch down.</p>
<p>The straps came off and fell away without any issues, and the two women grabbed their gear and stood, stepping out of the Pelican and onto the decking. They weren't there for a second before a dark blue AI appeared, wearing a rain coat and holding an umbrella with multiple puncture holes in it. She stared out from beneath the brim of a floppy rain hat, a moody expression on her face as she introduced herself. Morgan didn't miss the small artificial water puddles that covered the bottom of her rubber boots.</p>
<p>"Commander, Lieutenant, I am Monsoon, MON-3385-7, UNSC <em>Infinity</em>'s temporary AI, and I'll be your guide for your first few days on the ship until you've learned your way around enough to go about your duties.</p>
<p>Morgan and Amber shared a look, before the Spartan cleared her throat. "Monsoon, you've obtained our posting orders, I take it?"</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am. I've taken it upon myself to ensure optimal berthing to allow both of you to go about your duties in the easiest way possible."</p>
<p>A nod, satisfied, and the big woman went on. "Good. Thank you. What about our processing?"</p>
<p>Monsoon seemed to dim slightly, lines of code scrolling across her coat before it all turned into the remnants of a rain that only affected her, droplets of digital water remaining on the blue coat. "Both of you will be shown to your rooms and allowed to stow your gear before splitting up. Lieutenant Bailey will be shown to her squadron and given the chance to acclimate herself. You, on the other hand, will be directed to S-Deck for medical processing, final calibration of your tech suit, armor fitting, and your command level in-brief with the Captain. Any questions?"</p>
<p>"Negative, Monsoon. The sooner we get started, the better."</p>
<p>With a nod, Monsoon gestured to the floor with her free hand, where several panels in the decking lit up, flashing in a way as to guide the two of them. "If you'll please follow the flashing path, it'll take you to your berthing and we'll go on from there."</p>
<p>"Understood. We'll summon you when we're ready."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
<p>With that, the AI disappeared, her avatar merely a physical representation for Human crew to look at, but she had no doubt that Monsoon had eyes on every inch of the city sized ship at all times. Sharing a look with the pilot next to her, Morgan gestured with a bob of her head. "Ladies first," she joked, a half smile on her face.</p>
<p>"You're a lady too, smart ass," Amber shot back, but she led the way regardless. It was better for her to lead the way, so she could memorize the layout better, rather than staring at the Spartan's back for the majority of the trip.</p>
<p>Even before leaving the hangar, Morgan was astonished with just how big <em>Infinity </em>actually was. Several decks worth of space had been given over to hangars and the facilities required to house and maintain the massive air wing that <em>Infinity</em> kept onboard.</p>
<p>Pelicans and Broadswords were being pushed to and fro by crew in a rainbow's worth of vest colors, the hangar alive with activity as they prepped for cast off and the start of their newest tour. Crates were being offloaded from heavy lift vehicles like the D96-TCE Albatross, the massive vehicle able to carry far more than a Pelican could, and in the distance, she even saw the elongated, lanky looking frame of a D81-LRT Condor, whose job had been usurped by others like the Albatross, but with all the excess Pelican frames left over from the war, there was no reason not to use them for cheaper than their original cost and rip their slipspace drives out.</p>
<p>Several of the recently introduced M510 Mammoth's were onboard as well, being strapped into place, locked down with heavy ratcheting, and even a section of the hangar revealed an artificial gravity pad in the ceiling that was inactive at the moment, but would be activated before going underway to prevent the colossal vehicle from moving during transit.</p>
<p>All of it was left behind as they stepped through another doorway and into the hallways that ran through <em>Infinity</em> like nerves and blood vessels, feeding the important crew to the ship like blood moving to a vital organ. A ship nearly six kilometers long required thousands of crew to keep it functioning, a far cry from the frigate and corvette crews that numbered in the dozens, or a hundred at the most. Just under 18,000 personnel lived and worked on the ship, and it was filled not only with the tools to fight a war, but to keep its crew happy during the long voyages that <em>Infinity</em> would undertake. None of them were in sight now, but they were scattered across the ship, and the two new members of the crew would find them on their own.</p>
<p>Sailors and Marines were in every hallways, working on this or that, posting notices here or there, or ducking into another room to do whatever they did on this space capable city. The floor kept them in line, guiding them to an actual tramway of all things. Of course they should have expected something like this. The ODPs had their own trams, why wouldn't <em>Infinity</em>? There was likely other methods as well, but neither of them questioned it too much, and remained silent through their short ride farther towards the bow of the ship.</p>
<p>When the tram slid to a halt, the pair stepped out and almost immediately into an elevator that would take them to their berthing, still following Monsoon's directions as the AI kept a careful watch on them and their progress. An elevator ride up to another deck, and once again they were back on the path that was laid out.</p>
<p>More walking, more looking around, more memorization, and finally they were at their destination. Morgan felt overwhelmed as the door to their quarters slid open. She had been used to smaller rooms, and her berthing during her time on the <em>In Amber Clad</em> had given her a slightly larger room, but this was different. Given her new status, what they had given her seemed more like a moderately sized apartment than just a room.</p>
<p>The main room they had entered into had a set of chairs in a U-shape around a small table, a kitchenette in the far corner, and an entertainment suit on the open side of the U that the furniture was arranged around. Two doors led elsewhere, with one leading into what was a well equipped state room and the other leading into the sleeping quarters.</p>
<p>Morgan frowned and made for the bedroom, the door splitting open down the center and revealing a bedroom that was already set up for them. A king sized bed and a table on either side, with lamps and storage areas for what might be needed. Cabinets and wardrobes sat waiting for extra uniforms or whatever was stored inside otherwise. Finally, another door led into the bathroom that would be used during their stay on the ship.</p>
<p>Dumping their bags on the bed, Morgan's frown grew deeper. Was all of this really necessary? She had grown used to the comforts of civilian life, but this was a bit much.</p>
<p>"What's got that nasty look on your face?" Her wife's question broke her out of her thoughts.</p>
<p>"Didn't expect to stay in a suite rather than officer's quarters."</p>
<p>"What, you're <em>complaining</em> about it?"</p>
<p>Morgan's brows knit together and she looked back up at Amber. "I'm not <em>complaining</em>, I'm just making an observation."</p>
<p>"Well observe how comfortable it's all gonna be compared to where we've stayed in the past."</p>
<p>Morgan couldn't argue with that, but it did make her think. What were the berthings like for the other Spartans? For regular Marines? What about the Captain and other top ranked officers? It didn't really matter when she thought about it, given there was still far more to experience in the ship than just the rooms people stayed in.</p>
<p>Shrugging, Morgan left her bag alone. "Don't be late getting to your responsibilities," she called to her wife, turning and heading for the door.</p>
<p>"<em>Yes ma'am</em>," came the reply as the sound of a thud came from the pilot landing on the bed. Morgan didn't miss the tone that was the verbal equivalent of rolling her eyes, smiling slightly as she stepped back out and the door shut behind her. The next door opened and let her out into the halls again, and her new path was already lit on the floor beneath her feet, Monsoon more than ready to lead her around.</p>
<p>The ship only seemed to grow larger the more she walked through it, as if every step she took was adding another two steps of length to every corridor. That was to be expected, given her lack of experience with anything so big before. A frigate had always been the biggest ship she'd stepped foot on in regular incidents. Only the size of the super carrier over Reach had been bigger, but she hadn't gotten to explore it.</p>
<p>She stopped in her tracks, the sound of a far off voice coming back to her, and her lips dropped into a frown. She hadn't thought of Jorge in a while. He was still there in her mind, reminding her always, but he never surfaced to let her remember him most days, little more than a memory when the nights were dark.</p>
<p>Morgan thought that she had buried them all when she saw the monument at the museum, but she must have been wrong. A deep breath, in, and then out, and she forced herself to keep moving. Shaking her head slightly, barely noticeable to anyone but another Spartan, she shoved it all back into the box in her mind. There was no reason to give Kat another excuse to believe she was free to come back for a visit.</p>
<p>She made it to the elevators, and then S-deck quickly, intent on keeping herself busy and making good time. Stepping out of the elevator, a corridor ran on either side of the door, but Monsoon's lighting led her straight ahead, through another few doors, until she stepped out into a massive room designed for fitting all the <em>Infinity</em>'s Spartans in their armor and tuning it as needed. A few dozen Spartans could be seen, some running on treadmills, others in the armor fitting rings, and still more observing or instructing their comrades, but techs swarmed all over the place, busying themselves with the Spartans.</p>
<p>The room was a large rectangle in shape, with three ascending rows of armor fitting rings on either side, the area lit up and giving off the coloring of a stark white medical room, despite being the farthest thing from it.</p>
<p>"Ma'am."</p>
<p>Her head turned to the right, coming face to face with a shorter woman, albeit barely. A thin nose, brown eyes, hair pulled back in a bun and parted to the right, and a pair of full lips had Morgan's green eyes meeting those brown ones. Morgan also made note that, rather than armor, she was in the bare techsuit. That seemed to be the standard for Spartans on the ship. "Yes?" Her response was quick, sliding into the professional face that she had been learning to don again.</p>
<p>"Spartan Sarah Palmer, Alpha Company Commander for the Spartan detachment and I lead Fireteam Vegas. I've been instructed to guide you around and show you the ropes, ma'am."</p>
<p>Morgan stared for a few moments, taking in the details of the woman and her position, before nodding. "Understood. Let's go then, Spartan."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am." With a gesture and turning her back, Palmer took off at a walk. "First thing's first, medical processing. Not too much outside of ensuring records are properly updated for the start of tour, and to hit you with some new cocktails of meds that have been deployed for all Spartans branch wide. Mostly a formality, but…" Palmer shrugged, looking back over her shoulder.</p>
<p>"And then?" Morgan moved next to the other woman, keeping her eyes moving and her head looking around.</p>
<p>"Then comes the armor fitting and suit testing to make sure you're capable of moving without issues. There'll be a period of a week or two that you'll be participating in War Games scenarios and other situations to both ensure that your armor is fully ready to go and to gain some currency after so many years out."</p>
<p>"Currency isn't something I'm all that worried about, Palmer," she replied, glancing back at the other woman.</p>
<p>"That's what the others thought, too, but some of the IIIs that have been folded into the program struggled with the GEN2 armor sets. It takes some time to tune them for you and get you back to full muscle memory status. Usually, the IVs do it during their augmentation period, but the IIIs still struggle a bit, despite having never really left their armor."</p>
<p>Morgan grunted. "Fair enough. Has armor already been shipped in or am I starting from scratch?"</p>
<p>"Shipment came in a few days ago on its own, ONI fingerprints all over it. Figure you must have friends in the shadows, Commander."</p>
<p>"If only you knew, Palmer."</p>
<p>The two stopped their conversation as they stepped into one of the side doors further across the wall to the maintenance bay, leading into one of the medical bays capable of treating an entire fireteam's worth of Spartans, injured or otherwise. Palmer stepped to the side, crossing her arms in front of her as a pair of medical technicians appeared from a separated room, one hidden behind a thick barrier. Both were covered in what would usually classify as HAZMAT gear, only their eyes being visible, and even those were hidden behind protective materials.</p>
<p>Glancing at Palmer, Morgan voiced her concerns. "There a reason why I'm getting handled by a de-con team?"</p>
<p>"Protective measures. Civvie stuff is still standard x-ray, CT, MRI gear that's been in use for centuries, but <em>Infinity</em> has a couple of new toys. More precise, more clear, more… better. Trade off is that it's kinda nasty for normal people, so these machines are solely for Spartan personnel with our enhanced everything. Not being used at the moment but it's standard gear for the techs."</p>
<p>Morgan grimaced, but it didn't last as she was shuffled into place under a setup that looked like the armor rigs outside, putting her feet into stirrups and her hands into a hollow cylinder with a grip point inside. Her feet were locked into place, and her hands soon after, before several restraint pieces were hooked into the armor bolt points in her tech suit, and she was left completely immobile as the tech suit went rigid, the low hum of electricity in her ears.</p>
<p>Another frown. This was new. One of the techs stepped in front of her, a few tools in hand. "Commander, I'm sorry for any discomfort, but most Spartan medical evals are a little… different, than what you may be used to. Luckily, your tech suit allows us to better monitor your status and gives perfect injection sites for any and all procedures we may need to do that don't require a dedicated operating theater."</p>
<p>"So my tech suit is more useful than the GEN1 version?"</p>
<p>The tech nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It's got plenty of features that can be added on the fly as well, depending on mission set or armor pieces installed. For example, some variants of the GEN2 suits can be equipped with extra medical for missions where a dedicated Spartan medical response would be needed."</p>
<p>Morgan hummed, taking it all in. She would need to read up more on the armor and its changes from the first generation whenever she got access to whatever office they had set up for her. "Understood. Let's get this over with then."</p>
<p>"We'll try to go easy on you for your first day back, ma'am."</p>
<p>Morgan started to respond, but it was cut off as several needles were pushed into her system, one in each shoulder, each arm, each hip, each leg, and one each on the base of her spine and the base of her neck. She struggled against the sudden pain, grunting, but was unable to move in any way, short of her eyes and mouth.</p>
<p>It lasted for only thirty seconds, but it felt like forever to the Spartan, and she grimaced as the needles were pulled back and separate arms were pushed forward, squirting a small amount of biofoam into the injection ports that had been used. The burn of the antiseptic mixed with the stinging pain of the injections themselves were quickly wiped away by the numbing agent in the biofoam, and after a moment, the techs warned her to hold onto the grips, because they were unlocking the restraints one at a time.</p>
<p>Her hands were released first, and she pulled one down before the body restraints went next. Finally, her feet were freed, and she stepped back onto the deck, flexing her shoulders and hips, still not entirely pleased with the whole thing, but more or less she was fine. It hadn't been a major procedure, mainly a package of antibiotics, immune boosters, vaccinations, and other preparatory drugs that would acclimate her to a ship this size and the environment that it had become over time.</p>
<p>Frowning slightly, she thanked the techs and turned back to Palmer, leaning against the wall near the entrance. "Armor?"</p>
<p>A nod, and Palmer pushed off the wall. She was through the door with Morgan on her heels shortly after, already beelining for the far end of the room, where a glass enclosure with a balcony overlooked the area like a command center. Several of the armor rigs were open and empty, but techs were standing by the one directly under the balcony, an armor case sealed and waiting for its Spartan to come and claim it.</p>
<p>Her heart started to race a little as she took in the storage case that Mjolnir regularly came in. It had been years since she had laid eyes on one, and the last time had been when she'd sealed her armor away at the end of the war. She thought she'd never be in this position again, but… here she was, and things were different now.</p>
<p>Closing the distance felt like it took longer than it should have, anticipation building until she stood face to face with the crate, her reflection looking back at her.</p>
<p>"Ma'am?" She looked away from herself, looking at the tech that had spoken. He seemed to falter for only a second. "I need to access the control panel to unseal it, ma'am."</p>
<p>Morgan's lips parted, ready to say something, before she realized that she was blocking the panel, and nodded, stepping back. "Sorry."</p>
<p>The tech moved into place and punched the code in, before allowing it to scan his eye, and the crate hissed and opened up, revealing several blue colored armor pieces. It looked like when she had first opened the case on the <em>Cairo</em> with the Master Gunnery Sergeant, but with the additions from the battle on The Ark. It even had the shell holder modification and she could see the antenna poking over the right shoulder. She swallowed, before she saw herself again.</p>
<p>The golden visor on the Mark VI helmet was pristine, no dirt caked on or damage to the material. No fingerprint dents in the top or sides of the helmet. It was new, and all that had been on the armor from her struggles on Earth, on Halo, on the Ark… it had all been wiped away. A blank slate that was ready to welcome her into another war in another time once again.</p>
<p>She frowned when she realized she had been standing there for some time, and the techs were waiting for her. Some had exchanged glances, others fidgeting with the armor rig, making calculations that didn't really matter, just to avoid staring. Palmer was off to the side, directly across from the rig, watching with an interesting look on her face.</p>
<p>Nodding to herself, Morgan turned her back on Palmer and wordlessly stepped up onto the armor rig, going through the steps as she had in the medical bay until she was secured in place. With that as their cue, the techs set off to work, and the hum of electricity filled her ears again.</p>
<p>Several processes went on, her tech suit shifting and changing as the internals in it were calibrated and the pressure across the suit adjusted from minimum to maximum, mimicking the hydrostatic gel layer from the GEN1 suits. Rigidity and tension was next, and finally, relaxed. The calibrations themselves went on for several minutes, without a word from her. It was all computer calibrated now based on biosigns. Things had changed. She remembered her first tech suit, all those years ago, had taken hours to properly fit and adjust to her.</p>
<p>When they finished, the techs broke into pairs, lugging the armor pieces out as several arms dropped down in a group for armor preparation. When on the ship and not in armor, the pieces would remain here, attached to the rig. This was her rig and hers alone, and she would need to suit up here.</p>
<p>Once the armor was attached to all of the different arms, they pulled back up into the area above the rig, and one of the techs asked if she was ready. A nod, and the process started. Boots were attached, then the legs. Her rig shifted and changed as she was turned this way and that, the armor pieces held in place by the rig's arms and bolted together as if it was child's play. The legs were finished, her chest piece came on and the backplate was held in place before they were bolted together. Gauntlets, forearm armor, upper arm sets, and finally, the large shoulder pauldrons that had given her the iconic silhouette at the end were put in place. Everything was set up, until the rig placed her back upright, and one last piece came on.</p>
<p>The helmet was lowered slowly onto her head, and she watched the transition from her naked eyes to the interior of the old helmet. It didn't smell like sweat and blood anymore, old memories rushing back to her as that HUD settled into place. It smelled like… <em>new car smell</em>. The Master Gunnery Sergeant's voice was in her ears again, and she blinked. Where was he now? It didn't matter. He was probably out of the military by now, living a life that had been put on hold too long, just like she had been.</p>
<p>The HUD in her eyes brought her back to it, the shield bar flashing between red and blue as the BIOS finished updating and scrolling past. Several more things came online. The motion tracker, empty at first, filled with dots and information. Combat rosters updated rapidly, filling with the name of every Spartan Fireteam on <em>Infinity</em> and registering the bio signs of all of them based on their tech suit readouts, snatched up and carried through receivers all through the ship to keep command appraised of their status at all times. Then, her name appeared at the top, but it was different this time.</p>
<p><em>Spartan Morgan Bailey</em>.</p>
<p>B312 was gone, it seemed. Her eyes had picked up several numbers that registered as the roster had passed by, including several Gamma company Spartan IIIs, and a few Beta company, but her number had been taken and replaced by a last name, her own.</p>
<p>It gave her pause, but it didn't last long. All of the names had been settled into fireteams and given callsigns, and her own name was separated into a separate location designated command, along with a host of other Spartans that would be working closely with her either as a command presence or battlefield operators, or if the need came down to it, her own personal fireteam for certain missions.</p>
<p>But she would meet them later. She needed to finish this. The techs were waiting for her to commence shield tests. "Ready," she said, nodding to them. One of them nodded back and threw a switch, and the armor pulsed with energy as the rig's power was removed and the reactor pack came online. The alarm in her head sounded loudly, warbling as she grunted and clenched her teeth before dropping the volume and waiting for it to charge all the way with a muted, but satisfying beep.</p>
<p>Satisfied, the techs noted several things on a control panel on the rig's pedestal, and she was released. Stepping out of the rig, it was like she was faster. Not as bad as it had been her first time in the suit, but noticeably so after years out of it. She flexed her hands, her arms, her legs, everything. It was all done slowly and on her own time, a distant callback to the routine she had performed in the beginning to get acclimated and judge the differences in her speed.</p>
<p>Satisfied, she nodded again to herself and stepped forward. Looking at the techs, they cleared her to go, and she moved toward Palmer, the golden visor sealing her inside of the suit doing nothing to reflect Morgan's facial expression. Raising an eyebrow had gone unnoticed, and she frowned. "I'm ready for whatever's next."</p>
<p>"Next, the bridge. You'll be meeting with the brass," Palmer responded, meeting her new commander halfway.</p>
<p>"Understood."</p>
<p>The response was short and clipped, and Morgan noticed that Palmer was quick to keep her moving. Palmer was good so far, a little nonchalant, but ultimately there was nothing wrong with her demeanor. Spartans had always been, in her experience, a little nonchalant. The IIIs had all had their chips on their shoulders, but capable of being informal. Even Jorge had gotten used to their way of things. Only the Master Chief had ever been stoic and formal, but even he had been able to crack a joke from time to time. But he was gone now.</p>
<p>Another frown. Memories dragged back to those that had been gone for years now. She didn't think she would ever get over them, even if she was able to hide them away in the back of her mind to stop the pain that never truly went away.</p>
<p>The trek through the ship was once again quick and short, with someone guiding her. It was easy to get around when you had a map with you. A tram ride, another elevator, and a 50 meters of walking brought them to the main bridge, where a guard was always posted in full armor, and rather than marines, two Spartan IVs stood waiting, their visors watching the newcomers as they came closer. Palmer saluted, and Morgan followed. The two saluted back, and Morgan glanced over the holographic IFF tags they had. Riker and Genoa. Ultimately only important later, but right now, she had more pressing matters on her mind.</p>
<p>Stepping through the door onto the bridge, Morgan and Palmer stopped, both coming to attention and saluting at the back of someone hunched over a holographic table that reminded her of the battle planner on the <em>Forward Unto Dawn</em>. Turning around, an older man with a graying widow's peek set his eyes on them, a severe appearance making him seem as if he was already angry with knit brows and a permanent scowl.</p>
<p>Returning the salute, Captain Andrew Del Rio put his hands behind his back. "At ease, Spartans." The two dropped their hands quickly, mirroring his stance. Another man, standing behind a tech at another station, made his way over. A much younger man with brown hair and a smattering of stress lines, the rank insignia of a commander, and a heavy armored pauldron on one side of his uniform stopped next to Del Rio.</p>
<p>Morgan reached up to remove her helmet, holding it under one arm as Del Rio started. "Commander, welcome to the <em>Infinity</em>. I received your service record, plenty of black ink on it that shows ONI has a very divested interest in you-" <em>I read your file, even the parts the ONI censors didn't want me to. "</em>-but that doesn't mean that you're above procedure or protocol." Del Rio's scowl deepened slightly, enough to be noticeable.</p>
<p>"No, sir," she replied, falling back into the old methods of doing things, when she had been ONI's pet attack dog.</p>
<p>"You'll be reporting directly to myself, or Commander Lasky, and be included in top level briefings regarding operations, planning, and more. This means that your position as commander of the Spartan detachment will prevent you entering the field yourself unless under the most dire of circumstances. You will be expected to maintain proficiency in all things expected of you, combat based or otherwise."</p>
<p>Morgan fought off a frown. There was little so far of Del Rio's personality that led to him being a leader. He seemed more like… she reached for her experiences, and noticed that he seemed more like the manager of a store than a leader. "Understood, sir." There was little to say to him that would fit what she expected him to look for outside of complete following. She didn't like it, but she would do what she had to. She had signed the contract, after all. She wanted this… didn't she?</p>
<p>"Good. I'm glad you know how this works. You were our last boarder. We'll be preparing to shove off in just a few minutes. I'll be remaining here to oversee the jump. Commander Lasky will continue the inbriefing with you in a separate briefing room, update your clearance level, and set you up with whatever else is needed." A glance at Lasky, and Lasky nodded to the Captain. "Dismissed, Spartans."</p>
<p>The two saluted once again, and Del Rio returned it before he turned back to the holotable and Lasky stepped forward, gesturing back towards the door. He led the way out, and almost immediately into another room to the side. With the door shutting behind them again, Lasky stopped at a briefing table, next to one of the walls and with seats facing the wall and table in a semi circle around it.</p>
<p>He started to speak, looking to Palmer. "Spartan Palmer, thank you for your work in getting the Commander up to speed, but that'll be all we need from you for now. You're dismissed."</p>
<p>Palmer saluted, her heels clicking together this time. "Sir." With that, she dropped her salute and was gone back out the door as if she'd never been there.</p>
<p>Morgan looked back to Lasky, the commander going on. "You're really taking the whole 'big shoes to fill' and throwing them out the door, Commander."</p>
<p>"Sir?"</p>
<p>"I'm saying that there's really no other Spartan better for the job, at least not that we have access to."</p>
<p>"So I've been told, sir."</p>
<p>Lasky shook his head. "Please, call me Tom. You've done more than I'll likely ever hope to do, and rank permits it. I feel a little more comfortable that way, at least." He gave a half smile that showed in his eyes a little, and Morgan narrowed her eyes the smallest bit. <em>There it was</em>.</p>
<p>Lasky should have been in charge of the ship, had she had any say in it. But she didn't. Either way, Lasky seemed more like a leader than the managerial style of Del Rio, and that was enough for her to know she would follow Lasky until he showed reason not to.</p>
<p>"Alright… Tom."</p>
<p>His smile grew a little bit more, and he gave her a nod, gesturing to the two seats nearest the front. "Take a seat, this might take a while."</p>
<p>Moving for one of the seats first, he called out. "Monsoon, prep recording, inbrief, 1407, ship standard time, June 17th, 2557."</p>
<p>"<em>Aye sir, recording started, all relevant files and procedures ready for currency update of Commander Morgan Bailey </em><em>in preparation for assuming command of Infinity Spartan Detachment, henceforth INFSPARCOM."</em></p>
<p>The artificial voice was immediate, and Lasky relaxed back into the chair as Morgan frowned, looking at the chair, afraid of it not being able to hold her weight. "Relax, commander. These chairs were designed with Spartans in mind. It'll hold you just fine."</p>
<p>Morgan nodded, and sat in the chair slowly, relaxing once the chair failed to make any sound or creak that it would collapse.</p>
<p>"Ready to get started?" He asked, looking over at her with that smile that showed he was resigned to going through the procedure. Nobody liked updating clearances or preparing a new command.</p>
<p>"I'm ready," she replied.</p>
<p>"Let's get this over with then."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Run Through the Jungle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>Audere Est Facere" (To Dare is To Do)</em></p>
<p><em>- Motto, UNSC </em>Infinity<em>.</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>Three weeks had passed since Morgan Bailey had stepped back into a suit of Mjolnir and took on her Spartan title once again like regaining a championship belt. The days had passed with her growing familiar with the workings of an actual command position, meeting her new staff, learning all of the different fireteams and their roles, and merely trying to get back into touch with life as a soldier.</p>
<p>She had spent several days each week, randomly picking times and days to join in on War Games scenarios with each team that was operating at the time, taking the time to learn their strengths and weaknesses, showing ways to improve, and then getting her stride back by beating them into the ground as she had once been on Onyx during her training.</p>
<p>More than once, a fireteam member had made jokes or been a tease, before being shut up by their leader. Morgan was always keen to play along, as if she was worried they might best her. That was always when she pulled no blows, broke out every trick and cheating strategy, and reminded the Spartans that they were still soldiers, still fallible, and arrogance would only breed defeat.</p>
<p>Rumor had spread by now that she was all that her personnel file had stated and leagues more. There was nothing in the files about the Ark, about the Flood, Halo, any of it, but the words 'Hyper Lethal" were enough to grab their eyes and attention. She was fine with letting them believe what they wanted about her, but she wouldn't let them step onto the battlefield from this point on without knowing at least some of her old tips and tricks.</p>
<p>Sitting in her office in only a tech suit, she was going through another report on Fireteam Horizon, and their recent runs of the War Games simulator against Fireteam Pleiades. There were a few kinks to work out, but ultimately a solid showing that left the two teams at a draw more often than not. She would need to work through them soon.</p>
<p>Sitting back in the chair she had claimed as her own, she stretched and grunted, her eyes glancing over at the digital frame that she had picked up from the onboard assemblers and commissioned Monsoon's help to fill it. Inside, a picture of Hocus sat, the pilot giving a surprised, confused look. Monsoon had said something or another that had caught the woman off guard and quickly snapped the picture. It was far from flattering, but Morgan smiled all the same.</p>
<p>The sound of a ping signaled someone at her door, and she called out to enter. Sarah Palmer stepped in, though she was wearing her armor this time. The white armor was a stark coloration to the rest of the Spartans, and the red symbols on it only highlighted her, making her stand out from the pack when gathered.</p>
<p>Morgan brought her fingers together, entwining them as she remained leaning back in her chair. "Palmer, what can I do for you?" She asked. Ceremony and formalities had been tossed out the window quickly, the two Spartans having formed a working relationship and what might have been a shallow friendship so far, and found that they worked better together without worrying about the formality that others, like Del Rio, clung to when it was unnecessary.</p>
<p>"Wanted to see if you were up for a little wager, commander. Fireteam Tequila said that you wiped the floor with them and hearing that, well… Vegas was looking for a proper fight. See if you were all that and more for themselves."</p>
<p>Morgan snorted, her eyes narrowing. "And you didn't let them in on the secret?"</p>
<p>Palmer's eyes flashed as she stopped at the front of the desk, crossing her arms, her helmet hung on her belt. "You've proven everyone else wrong, why let Vegas miss out on the surprise?"</p>
<p>"Fair point." Morgan's lips turned up into a shallow smile. A glance at her terminal, and taking in the time, she nodded. "I can spare a few matches, but we'll be doing things my way. When you get to the simulation field, requisition four chambers, interlaced, my authority. I'll get suited up and be down there in… fifteen."</p>
<p>"Yes ma'am. Arsenal restrictions?"</p>
<p>"Free. Vegas is one of the best, right? We'll see if that's the truth or not." Green eyes looked up, meeting brown. There was a fire in those green eyes that hadn't been seen in ages, and Palmer's smile faltered for only a moment, before she concealed the hesitation.</p>
<p>"Alright, wanna make a bet on it then?"</p>
<p>"A bet? Palmer, I'll take your money, but is that a good idea?"</p>
<p>"Maybe, maybe not. It might sting a bit more to lose some money, but nowhere near as bad as their pride if we lose. Are you bringing any of the other teams with you?"</p>
<p>"Negative. Just me. I'll brief you when I get down there. Until then, make sure to use your time wisely."</p>
<p>Palmer nodded and turned to leave, stepping out of the office and making her way off towards the simulation area, already calling her team as her helmet slipped onto her head.</p>
<p>Alone, Morgan sat for a few moments, before she called out. "Monsoon."</p>
<p>The AI was quick to pop up on a small pedestal on her desk, rain droplets pattering off of her coat. "<em>Yes, commander.</em>"</p>
<p>"Push back my meetings by about two hours. Inform Spartan August he's up until I return."</p>
<p>"<em>Yes, ma'am."</em> With that, the little AI disappeared, but she wasn't gone.</p>
<p>Standing from her desk, Morgan made her way down to the armor rigging area, and stepped into her rig. Techs had her up and running in just a few minutes, and she stepped out ready to go with her helmet on her belt. Bypassing armories and other locations, Morgan made straight for the simulation chambers.</p>
<p>Entering the first, where Palmer was waiting with the rest of Vegas, Morgan got an eyeful of all of them. All wearing white armor, but only Palmer had the red symbols. Four team members stood next to her, all wearing some variation of the scout or recon helmets, all GEN2 designs. Vegas was a pathfinder team, meant to be forward deployed to clear the way for friendly forces, and doubled as intelligence and recon, or overwatch if needed.</p>
<p>Her eyes passed over their loadouts. At least one of the recon helmeted Spartans was holding onto a sniper rifle, a pair of magnums on Palmer's hips, another wearing a scout helmet was holding a shotgun with an SMG on their hip, and the last two were carrying battle rifles, one each wearing scout or recon. Otherwise, their armor was all the same.</p>
<p>Palmer gave Morgan a look, one that was transmitted through her visor. "Ma'am? You gonna grab a weapon?"</p>
<p>"Negative, Palmer. I'll be getting mine on site. Briefing is coming so listen up." She moved over to a nearby terminal that controlled the simulation, already linked by techs as she had asked. On it, she started inputting commands to fix the scenario as she wished. "I'll be playing OPFOR for all of you. You'll need to make it through five klicks of heavy forest and into a waiting dropship. Native flora and fauna are hazards, and can slow you down or be used as bait or traps. You'll have an hour and a half to get from the start to the finish line. Only one of you has to make it there. Any questions?"</p>
<p>She could see helmets turning and almost feel the confusion radiating off of them. One Spartan, the one with the sniper, spoke up That was O'Hara. "Ma'am, if you're going in without weapons, are you going to find them in the forest?"</p>
<p>"You could say that," she responded, a smirk coming onto her lips.</p>
<p>The Spartan nodded slowly, unsure of whether to ask another question. One of her comrades spoke up. "If we have an hour and a half, five klicks isn't all that much, even in a heavy woodland."</p>
<p>"Are you sure about that, Spartan?"</p>
<p>"Uh… yes, ma'am. Positive."</p>
<p>"Good, if you had said anything else, I'd have been worried."</p>
<p>Once again, nothing else came out, and she could almost see the minute movements as they spoke to each other inside of their helmets. Palmer was the only one left. Even she seemed confused, and a little on edge now.</p>
<p>"Still interested in that bet, Palmer?" Morgan asked, green eyes settling on the white armored Spartan.</p>
<p>"No, ma'am. I think I'll try another time."</p>
<p>"Understood. If there's nothing left, get ready to begin. You have five minutes to get a plan sorted out inside of the simulation's start point. Only rule in this simulation is you can't leave the starting area, ten meters by ten meters squared, until time has begun. I'll be starting somewhere within a square kilometer around you, with your starting area being the center of that zone. It can be behind you, to your sides, or even above you, so don't rule anything out. I expect your best out there, Spartans. You've only gotta avoid me and get to extract, and I don't even have a weapon. Shields and armor are standard levels. Dismissed."</p>
<p>With that, Morgan slid her helmet on and stepped out of their line of sight, disappearing into one of the corridors that led to another location. Moments later, the simulation began with a loud beep, and a simulated forest surrounded them, before the sounds of the ship were taken away and replaced by the sounds of the forest.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Spartan Sarah Palmer grimaced as she realized her time had already started, and she started to regret taking this challenge. "Fireteam Vegas, form up. We don't have much time, but we've been through this before. Maybe not this forest in particular, but we're no strangers to the woods, right?"</p>
<p>A chorus of no ma'am. "Thought so. We'll be moving together, loose formation. Point man's dance, we'll be going off of Manning's tune." With a point, she pointed out Manning, the Spartan holding one of the battle rifles and wearing a scout helmet. "After will be Gordon, myself, O'Hara, and then Rani in the rear. Staggered column, ten meter spacing."</p>
<p>One of the Spartans holding the battle rifles, wearing a recon helmet, spoke up. Her accent was an older British one. "Are we really all that worried about the commander? I mean she doesn't even have a weapon to use against us. How does she plan on stopping our whole squad?"</p>
<p>Palmer frowned. "Honestly? I have no idea, I don't like it one bit. She stomped a mudhole in the other teams that have gone up against her in normal scenarios where it's just a take and hold. This is new, and I have not a single doubt that she's got something really sketchy planned, so stay on your toes."</p>
<p>Once again, they all shared looks among each other, muttering quietly into their mics about something that may or may not happen. Palmer's frown deepened. Just the situation itself was putting them on edge, and they were never like this. Doubts were creeping in.</p>
<p>"Alright cut the chatter. If it's not an idea of how to move forward, stow it. I don't need second guessing. This is our chance to shine and show up the rest of the teams. If we fail, not too big a deal since everybody else that's gone up against her has, but if we win, then we'll have bragging rights for months."</p>
<p>They all nodded. She spent the rest of the time going over possible situations, but even if she had an hour, it wouldn't be enough to prepare against the commander. They had seen her in action before, but never gotten the chance to face off against her themselves. She never made a habit of using the same strategy or tactics, no patterns. Even if she had went in with a shotgun every time, sometimes she used it for bait, sometimes for fighting, sometimes to bludgeon people with it, and sometimes not at all.</p>
<p>The simulation room sent a large chime through the air, and Palmer's heart rate spiked for a second. "Time's up, Vegas. Let's move!"</p>
<p>Taking her two magnums in hand, she took up her position in the center of the formation, eyes already scanning and her motion tracker active. In the distance, she heard a flock of birds take flight and knew that they were being hunted already. Eerie silence filled the forest, and she took in the details of the time and weather.</p>
<p>It was late afternoon, and the sun was creeping through the trees in just a way that meant plenty of places were lit up by an amber ray of light, and others were shaded, or even completely dark. There were no clouds that she could see, no rain, no fog, just purely clear air. That was almost worse. Their clean line of sight just meant that the commander would have the same benefits. The only advantage they had over her was that they would be carrying weapons and capable of fighting back immediately, while she would be trying to sneak up on them and capture or 'kill' them.</p>
<p>Still, that didn't mean it was a walk in the park, and none of them were truly prepared to fight her, a hero of the Human-Covenant War in more ways than one.</p>
<p>Their journey through the forest was without fanfare or events, outside of the random animal scurrying into the undergrowth, but it kept them all on edge. Every sound, every movement, could be the commander, ready to come down on them all like a sack of hammers and cave all their skulls in.</p>
<p>Even then, they still made good time, and within ten minutes, they'd cleared a kilometer with no sign of her. Their guards stayed up, none of them speaking or breaking the silence in any way. Motion trackers were set to fifty meters, looking for the telltale signs of a red icon that would point her out to them.</p>
<p>Another half a kilometer, and Palmer felt that sense of dread in her gut. Glancing to her left, she looked into a clearing through the trees, and for an instant, she thought she saw the reflection of light on a golden visor, and her weapons came up, only for a ray of light to be seen through her sights.</p>
<p>Her breath was in her throat, and she still felt that sense of dread, felt a pair of hostile eyes on the back of her helmet.</p>
<p>"Palmer? What's going on?" Manning's heavy voice in her ear, his words worried as he halted his forward momentum at the sound of her turning.</p>
<p>"I'm seeing things. Keep moving. The less time we spend stopped, the less time for her to hone in on us."</p>
<p>Manning sent a green status light and started moving again, but something came that had them all pointing their weapons up and in that same direction. A loud crack sounded, and in the area where Palmer had seen something, parts of a tree's bark came off in shards, having been turned to shrapnel by a stone that had been hurled at it hard enough to ricochet towards them and land at their feet.</p>
<p>"Shit." Palmer breathed the words out loud, her comm not picking them up as she made a circular motion with one of her hands, Vegas fanning out and choosing their sectors in an instant to prepare for contact.</p>
<p>A flurry of movement and Rani shouted out. "Contact!" Her battle rifle fired into the bushes, but the sound of rounds pinging off of a shield never came, instead hissing into the underbrush and bringing a squeal. She had killed an animal, the animal in question being little more than a realistic representation as it disappeared from the simulation to respawn elsewhere in an instant.</p>
<p>Palmer's breathing had picked up as she scanned the area quickly, even pushing her motion tracker out another fifty meters, but still there was nothing. No red dots among the small yellow ones.</p>
<p>"Get it in gear, she knows where we are, and we can't stay her. Cover every few seconds, make sure to check for each other just as often in case she grabs one of us somehow."</p>
<p>A group of green lights and they were in motion again, Palmer scanning their left occasionally, waiting for another rock to come sailing in and-</p>
<p>There it was. Another loud crack, and she started scanning for shrapnel and an incoming rock, but she was too late. In the rear of the formation, a thud came. O'Hara had been hit in the helmet with the rock, impacting against the rear hard enough to collapse her shields. She grunted and stumbled, going to the ground and taking a knee before collapsing. Rani was quick to bend and grab her as the rest of the squad fell back at Palmer's shouted order, firing at whatever movement they saw in irregular staccato bursts.</p>
<p>Another rock came sailing in from further to the right, this time hitting Palmer's gauntlet hard enough to cause pain and send her magnum flailing into a bush. There was no time to search for it. "Grab O'Hara, break contact, now!"</p>
<p>She gave the order and Rani picked the downed team member up and threw the other Spartan over her shoulder before taking her own weapon in one hand and leading the way out of their ambush.</p>
<p>Palmer and the rest fell in behind her, covering their retreat while moving quickly. She wasn't too worried about losing the magnum. It only had a single magazine and that wouldn't be enough to finish them, but given that she'd just hurled a rock hard enough to break O'Hara's shields and drop her, Palmer worried that it might be the end of them.</p>
<p>They made a quick getaway, and no more rocks came sailing in. This time, Palmer took up the rear, watching behind them for movement or for the commander to move in and try to find the magnum if she had seen it go flying.</p>
<p>Eventually, the ambush site disappeared behind them, concealed by trees and foliage. Turning around, she checked their route. A waypoint in the distance showed there were only three kilometers left to go, and they had an hour left. O'Hara still hadn't recovered from the impact. She was likely concussed. It wasn't really slowing them down, but nobody wanted to carry a whole Spartan for this long. They would need to switch out eventually. Even if she hadn't 'killed' O'Hara, the commander was slowing them down even more than if she had done away with the woman.</p>
<p>They continued on for a while, once again without contact, and it made Palmer's heart race as she led her squad through the forest, being hunted by their greatest challenge so far. They were used to doing the hunting, but now they were the biggest game, the prey that fought back.</p>
<p>Even now, they were capable of traipsing through the woods without making a sound, perfectly good at stealth and concealment, but they were fighting against a woman that knew everything they did and more, and had years of experience under her belt as a Spartan in some of the hardest fought battles in Human history.</p>
<p>A crack in the distance, a stick breaking, likely an animal, but could just as well be the commander trying to cover her tracks. Palmer watched, and they kept moving, until she turned her eyes away. Rani had taken up the second position, and switched off carrying O'Hara with Gordon before moving to the rear behind Palmer, and Manning kept point.</p>
<p>Another crack, and a boar came running out of the woods at them, grunting and squealing as it charged at one of the Spartans. A curse, and Palmer pulled up her magnum, unloading into the beast. It took several rounds before it went down and slid to a halt.</p>
<p>"Sound off, we all good?"</p>
<p>Green lights from Gordon and Manning, O'Hara was still on Gordon's shoulder. She waited for Rani's light to shine, but it never did, and looking behind her, the Spartan was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she had vanished, save for the twin trails where heavy armor had been dragged through the underbrush.</p>
<p>Palmer cursed and followed them, only for the trails to disappear after ten meters without a trace. A drop of sweat beaded on her forehead, wicked away by the helmet, and she grimaced before running back to her squad. "Commander got Rani, we need to move, <em>now</em>. She has access to a battle rifle at least, likely tapped comms, and whatever load Rani was carrying on her. Switch to status lights only, hand signals can be seen and interpreted."</p>
<p>The other two sent amber lights back, but kept moving. Palmer kept up the rear, Manning leading, and Gordon was carrying O'Hara. Palmer dare not leave the downed woman behind. That would look even worse than failure, and personally, she wouldn't do it. It was against everything she knew. Even if she was downed, better to be dead weight than dead.</p>
<p>While O'Hara had definitely been taken down by the impact, the simulation shutting down her armor as a method of immersion, Palmer was worried that she might actually have gotten injured after such a hit. But it wouldn't be the first time any of them had been hurt in a simulation or exercise.</p>
<p>They were halfway there, and the timer was ticking down, reminding her every second that there was only so much time for them to escape and claim their victory, but with how quickly two of her Spartans had been taken down by someone they hadn't even <em>seen</em>, she was rapidly losing confidence in their odds. They wouldn't give up, but she doubted they would win at this rate.</p>
<p>Once again, some time went on without an attack or even a sighting of the blue armored Spartan. How she could blend into the green foliage in blue colored armor and a reflective golden visor, she had no idea. They were all taught to be concealable in any terrain, regardless of their armor color or equipment, but she was like a damned ghost, and a big one at that.</p>
<p>There wasn't much to the challenge, she had thought. Just skirt through the woods and shoot the commander whenever she appeared, but she had been so very wrong. A knot in her gut was coiling up, and she hated the feeling. She hadn't felt like this in years, always confident in her abilities and that of her team. It had always been a face to face fight against the Covenant, and they were easy enough to take down with a squad of veterans. Even other Spartans were a match, only slightly better or worse depending on the situation, and capable of being felled. But this was a whole other experience, one that worried her, but reminded her that the commander had earned her title completely.</p>
<p>A snap and her head whipped around, spotting Manning falling forward onto his face. His hands came out with the shotgun on the ground, bracing himself and already starting to come back up when a staccato burst came from their right, several rounds impacting the Spartan's side. Their rifles were burst fire or single fire only, but it sounded like this rifle was being fired on full auto, and she whipped around to cover, already giving the order to fire at the figure that had been spotted finally, little more than a shadow in the foliage, highlighted by the muzzle flash of her stolen rifle.</p>
<p>As soon as a round hit her, the commander's shield flashed and she dropped one hand from her rifle's stock, snapping the hand to her hip, and then back up with a pistol in hand, firing as fast as the slide would rack and slot a new round into place. The heavy slugs came in like hail, hitting Palmer in the face and head and snapping it back before she dropped and tucked into a roll for cover.</p>
<p>Her shields wailed loudly in her ears, and her breathing was heavy. That had been close. It had almost been like a laser had turned on her and put rounds on target without an issue in an instant. The deedle deedle of her shields finally stopped and hummed back to full strength before finally beeping as it reached full charge. Popping out again, her magnum was up and she searched for her target, but the commander was gone.</p>
<p>Her Spartans moved into a circle around her, O'Hara being left in a bush to keep her safe from more direct fire as they all went back to back. Manning was favoring one side, showing he had been hit. Palmer glanced back for a second, before looking back to her sights, scanning the forest. "Manning, status!"</p>
<p>"She got me good! Right side, abdomen, at least one round penetrated." There had been no actual penetration, and the armor was still perfectly fine, but the simulation had caused the gel layer to stiffen as if he had actually been hit, and lock up to simulate a wound that would make it harder to move.</p>
<p>Another curse under her breath and Palmer glanced at O'Hara. "O'Hara, you up yet?"</p>
<p>There was no response. She had been wounded, of course, and knocked out from the hit earlier, but Palmer had no idea if the other woman was considered 'dead' yet or not. Moving forward, she dropped low to the ground and checked the other woman, shaking her to see if she would respond, even triggering a stimulant to see if she would get back on her feet, but nothing worked. Checking the squad vitals, O'Hara had been flatlined and was now considered KIA.</p>
<p>"Fuck!" Palmer scurried back to her squad, flashing a red light twice, an amber once, and a green twice. Their status was plain to see. The commander was picking them apart piece by piece, letting them relax ever so slightly, going longer periods before engaging again on her own terms, ambushing them any chance she got. At this rate, they might make it to the end point, but only one of them would be able to make it, if that. Even if she didn't outright drop all of them, she could slow them all down and force a time out, ending in her victory, or cripple them in some way.</p>
<p>Her breathing was coming faster as she tried to picture how to go about this. There was no way to properly entrench in the forest with the commander coming from any direction, no way to set up fields of fire and survive to the end while succeeding, all they could truly do would be to make a sprint for it and hope to outpace her, but that was careless. It would be easy to ambush them in a sprint. No matter how prepared she thought she had been, there was nothing that could be done to the commander. But she wouldn't surrender or give up.</p>
<p>Turning on her helmet speakers, she kept the volume low. "We need to leave, now, or she's going to hit us again very soon. We keep up our forward momentum, fighting retreat. We can't keep stopping every time she attacks or we'll get grabbed like Rani did. We keep taking hits and she'll cripple us."</p>
<p>Gordon grunted behind her. "Not like I had any better ideas. What about O'Hara's body?"</p>
<p>"We leave it. Nothing to be done. Trigger the failsafe and see if she goes for the sniper rifle. Set a trap and see if it catches her while we haul ass out of here."</p>
<p>There was a failsafe in all Mjolnir armor that was to be used in case of a Spartan casualty that couldn't be carried or evacuated. When a Spartan was killed, the reactor pack was set on a runaway process that would cause it to go up like a small nuke, vaporizing anything within 30 meters. It would be set by a timer, usually, but there was no telling when the commander would come. Either she came too early and got the rifle and survived, came too late and ignored it, or was just in time and got vaped. In the simulation, it would cause an explosion, but wouldn't outright cause any damage.</p>
<p>"Cover." Palmer sent her order and dove for the body, dragging it a little further out. "Sorry, O'Hara, gonna have to nuke you." The woman in the armor was forced to be limp until the simulation was over, or the techs pulled her out manually. After the detonation, she would be pulled out when all participants were a certain distance away. While she couldn't respond, Palmer knew the other woman heard her.</p>
<p>Setting the timer for 120 seconds, Palmer ignored the sniper rifle in the bushes, as if she hadn't seen it, and stood. "Move!" She took up the rear of their formation, Gordon and Manning moving ahead as they spread into a staggered wedge formation, Palmer taking the right side, a few feet back from Gordon, who took the left, a few feet to the rear of Manning. It would prevent them from getting trapped in one go.</p>
<p>She counted down the seconds in her head as they closed on their objective, the meters ticking down quickly as long, augmented legs ate up the distance. 30 seconds. 15 seconds. 5 seconds. Zero.</p>
<p>The detonation shook the trees, and a flash behind them was bright enough that it cast their shadows ahead of them, even with trees in the way for the most part. When the light faded, Palmer waited for the simulation to end, but it never did, and she cursed again. The commander had escaped her trap, and they were still forced to be on the run. Two klicks left, and 45 minutes remained on the timer. They had plenty of time left, theoretically, but the attacks would only get worse from here on out.</p>
<p>Their journey continued on for a time, all of them scanning their sectors and waiting for that ghost to come out and haunt them again, waiting to be picked off by a well placed barrage of rounds from a battle rifle or the single high powered sniper round that would drop them. But before anything came, Manning slowed for a second, flashing his red status light rapidly.</p>
<p>Ahead of them, directly in their path of movement, a stick was shoved into the ground like a mount, and on it, O'Hara's helmet was mounted on it.</p>
<p>A sharp intake of breath, and Palmer flashed her own red light back in response, before flashing the amber three times. <em>Carry on, show caution.</em></p>
<p>It was like the commander was toying with them, using not only proper strategy and tactics, but screwing with their minds, letting them <em>know</em> that she had managed to get to O'Hara in time to not only take her helmet, but likely find the sniper rifle too. Palmer continued on past the helmet, making sure to keep a wide berth, in case it was booby trapped, and they made it past without any issues. Still, no fire came in on them, no explosions, no traps, nothing. The helmet disappeared behind them as if it had never been there in the first place, and Palmer still felt that sensation she was being watched.</p>
<p>Not even Brute Stalkers or Elite Special Ops had ever made her feel like this, and they had been actively cloaked. The difference was that she could deal with them. They had established doctrines, had patterns and technological weaknesses that could be exploited. The commander, on the other hand, only had her armor and whatever she had managed to steal off of their casualties.</p>
<p>This wasn't even a real combat operation for Christ's sake! She needed to control herself. If the commander got her on edge, she would make even more mistakes, slip up again without a doubt, and that would be the end of it.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Palmer sent out another series of status lights, giving the command to pick up the pace, but keep themselves ready for anything. Manning checking for traps, with Palmer and Gordon glancing between their sides and the front to make sure nothing was dangling down or ready to clothesline Manning. They would be ready for her next time.</p>
<p>Another half a kilometer of travel and Palmer tensed up. It was about that time again, and she sent an amber status light out, getting two green lights in reply. They were feeling like she was, and she prepared to fight.</p>
<p>50 meters passed by, then a hundred, and nothing, causing the Spartan to frown, and she felt frustration creep in again. No attack, no traps, no signs that the commander had been anywhere near here.</p>
<p>"Palmer, isn't it about time she tried something?" Gordon asked, not looking back at her as his weapon swept the area again, ready to open fire at the drop of a hat.</p>
<p>"Quiet, don't jinx us anymore than we already are. Less chatter, more looking." Palmer was quick to order his doubts down, and Gordon didn't respond. Looking to the right again, she made a full circle, looking to the rear, and then the trap was sprung.</p>
<p>The vapor trail of a 14.5x114mm round passing through the air was visible to her heightened eyes, and time slowed down as Palmer watched the round sail in from the rear and impact on Gordon's helmet, sending him down in slow motion. She reacted without thinking. "Sniper!"</p>
<p>Time sped up again, and she dove behind a tree as another round was fired, ricocheting off of the tree and sending splinters and large chunks of wood through the air as it bounced off and screamed into the dirt with a large puff. Looking over at Manning, he had tucked into the cover of another tree, several bushes blocking his line of sight. Gordon still lay in the dirt, crumpled from the deadly hit that he had taken. Had it been a real situation, the man's helmet would have been turned into a soup bowl. Not even GEN2 shields could take a hit and stop all of the energy of a high caliber weapon like that. A shot to the chest would hurt like a bitch, but you'd survive, usually. A headshot was an instant death sentence.</p>
<p>"Gordon's gone!" She called out to Manning and saw his helmet, a scout model, look back at her, the blue visor emotionless, but she could feel the question behind it. "We're gonna have to split up and haul ass, hope that she can't catch both of us in time. That's the only way we're getting out of this with a victory," she called, more than aware of the eerie quiet that followed the twin sniper shots.</p>
<p>"We don't have much of a choice!" He returned her sentiment, and dropped the shotgun, taking his SMG and making sure it was loaded and ready. "Trade me!"</p>
<p>She was quick to oblige, and her pistol went sailing over to him with the mags she had left. The SMG went across next, and she was locked and ready to go with more than just her magnum. Two was a party, one was a bad time.</p>
<p>"Ready?" A nod. "Break!" She gave the order and she was up and moving to the right of where they had been heading, scattering into the forest, but no fire came in while she displaced. Manning went in the other direction, likely moving just as fast as she was and trying to cut down the distance on the objective as much as he could. If either of them were attacked, they would try and distract the commander as much as possible, hopefully let the other get away in time.</p>
<p>Her heart was starting to race now, as she picked up speed and moved around trees, jumped over roots and stones, and ducked under low branches. There was no other option. All of her training and strategies had been exhausted with the commander's assaults, and her Spartans had been taken out like rookies. They were all trained veterans, former special forces operators, and with more than one battle under their belts. But nobody was ready to see the tactical prowess of a real Spartan turned against them. Marines had always made jokes about being glad that Spartans were on their side, and Palmer had thought that becoming a Spartan would make her just as good, if not better. Now she could see she had been naive in the face of what was a Greek God, and she was merely the likes of Achilles. Powerful, well trained, and capable in every sense, but the commander was a whole other league.</p>
<p>In the distance, as the objective loomed only a kilometer away, she heard the crack of a battle rifle, and the return fire of a shotgun. Several exchanges went past, before the end of it left the forest in silence once more. A shot from both weapons had come simultaneously. There was no telling who had won.</p>
<p>"Manning!" She called out to him on their channel. "Manning, status!"</p>
<p>Nothing came for a time, until she heard the sound of the commander's voice, emotionless and cold, different from what Palmer had known so far. "One left."</p>
<p>Palmer grit her teeth and cut the channel, slamming her chin against the helmet controls to turn off all of her transmissions gear, from the GPS-analogue to the radar and comms gear. All that was left was the passive method that the motion tracker used to look for enemies and allies alike.</p>
<p>She came to a break in the trees, spotting a Pelican sitting in the middle of a large clearing. She had two hundred meters to go, and she grunted, pushing herself as hard as she could, giving it everything she had left, and then the red blip appeared on her motion tracker at the rear.</p>
<p>Struggling to bite back a whine, Palmer knew she'd never make it across that much open ground, no matter how evasive she got. With her victory all but disintegrating in her hands, she turned on her heel and dug it into the ground, sliding a short distance while she brought the SMG up, and she barely had time to come face to face with the demon that had been chasing her and her team for the last hour, wiping them out one by one.</p>
<p>The rattle of its report went up, echoing off of the trees, and the reflection of its muzzle flash appeared in both visors, for only a moment, before a blue armored hand came up quickly and pushed it away, the shields on the commander flaring as her other hand came up in an open palm and struck Palmer's chest plate.</p>
<p>Morgan was quick to push the advantage, now finally out in the open and being taken in by Palmer's eyes as she was pushed back. The blue armored Spartan had a shotgun and a battle rifle strapped to her back, but neither would be all that useful here. Stepping forward, Morgan continued to strike at Palmer's chest plate, trying to knock the wind out of her or even knock her down for a finisher.</p>
<p>Palmer was able to dodge most of the strikes, but there was no chance to pull the SMG back up for any meaningful amount of fire. Leaping back and dodging as far as she could, she reared back and hurled the SMG at the commander, hoping to distract her long enough for an opening.</p>
<p>Morgan's left hand came up and swatted it away, the weapon going careening off into the bushes before she ducked low and pushed off the ground as hard as she could, tackling Palmer and grabbing her by the midsection before charging forward and slamming her into the trunk of a massive tree.</p>
<p>Palmer started to beat at Morgan's back with her elbows, both of their shields flaring, before one of Morgan's arms came up and blocked the next blow, rapidly shifting to hold Palmer's arm in her armpit, and then she pulled.</p>
<p>Palmer felt white hot pain fill her skull as her shoulder was dislocated. Her free arm struggled, grabbing at the shotgun that was on Morgan's back and yanking, but it was too long, and she had no way to get it into position to fire, so she grabbed it by the pump and slammed the stock into Morgan's back.</p>
<p>A grunt came from the blue armor, but Palmer didn't hear it. Trying again, Morgan released her, and backed up just in time to avoid the second strike. Yanking the battle rifle from its place on her back, she pushed forward again, jamming the barrel into Palmer's midsection, close enough that the shields were unable to cover, and pulled the trigger.</p>
<p>Palmer felt the armor seize up, and more pain filled her gut, but it was gone as soon as it'd come, and with a blaring alarm, the simulation ceased and fell apart around them.</p>
<p>Morgan and Palmer stood transfixed, two visors glaring at each other, before Morgan pulled the battle rifle back and slung it on her back. Without a word, the other woman reached up and grabbed Palmer's shoulder, resetting it and causing Palmer to hiss in pain, before Morgan backed up and pulled her helmet off.</p>
<p>Her hair was messy, her eyes were wild, and her chest plate was rising and falling quickly, as if she was out of breath. Palmer dropped the shotgun, removing her helmet and dropping to the floor in a seated position.</p>
<p>Neither said anything for a while, only the sound of their rushed breathing coming for a time. Palmer broke the silence. "Looks like- like you win- Commander."</p>
<p>Morgan chuckled, the sound more like a hurried series of breaths than an actual laugh. "Told you- I would," she replied, taking a seat herself and raising her arms above her head to get a lungful of air.</p>
<p>Their lungs finally started to slow down, and their breathing went back to normal, leaving the two sitting on the ground and looking each other over. Palmer spoke up. "Didn't expect all that, honestly."</p>
<p>"What, being tracked like that?"</p>
<p>"Not exactly. I knew you'd track us no problem. Not hard for any Spartan to track, but being able to steal Rani out from under us with that boar acting as a distraction. How'd you even manage that?"</p>
<p>"Rocks are my friend when it comes to scaring things. I wasn't very far from you when I threw it. Thermals let me spot the boar, threw the rock behind it, and it came charging at your group thinking it was being penned in. After that, I made my move. Hit the underside of her helmet below the neural interface and knocked her out." Morgan looked back towards the observation area overlooking the place. "Techs dragged her off after that. She might still be unconscious, but she'll be fine."</p>
<p>Palmer frowned, humming. "I didn't think we'd be that easy to take down. We didn't even <em>see</em> you until you engaged us the third time."</p>
<p>Morgan gave a grin. "Only because I <em>let</em> you see me. You're unlucky in that you didn't challenge me my first few times back. Took some time to really get used to the flow of combat again, but… it's all muscle memory and instinct at this point."</p>
<p>Boots sounded on the deck, and Palmer looked up at the approaching Spartans, all with their helmets by their sides. None looked too happy at their first loss of the tour, but they would live. Only O'Hara was absent, being looked over by medics most likely. Palmer would be next to ensure that her shoulder was set properly, and it wouldn't be too long. A pair of them followed closely behind the gang of Spartans, looking far too small compared to the heavily armored soldiers.</p>
<p>A deep breath, and Palmer rose to her feet, feeling at her shoulder. There was no pain, but that wouldn't matter. The two medics closed and one reached for a tool from the bag hanging from his waist, pulling out a small handheld terminal that he plugged into her neural interface port.</p>
<p>After a few moments, he scanned the diagnostics readout that came from the armor and nodded. Putting the tool back in the bag, he pulled a small packet from a pocket inside the bag and held it out to her. "For the pain. Shoulder's fine, no problems. Report to medical if anything comes up."</p>
<p>It was almost like he was reading off of a script, the injury had been so minor for her. Spartan healing, even on the IVs, was still more than capable of dealing with any injuries with ease. Palmer started to pocket the packet, but she glanced over and saw a disapproving look from Morgan, who raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Frowning slightly, Palmer ripped the packet open and dumped the contents into her hand, taking a pair of capsules and looking back at Morgan, receiving a nod this time. Finally, Palmer turned toward her fully and gestured to her. "So, how'd we do overall?"</p>
<p>Morgan took a moment to think. "Good, all said and done. You almost made it. Had you split up in the beginning, it would have been far easier to take you out. Less trapping. One question though, Palmer: You ever lose a subordinate in the field?"</p>
<p>Palmer frowned, looking over at her squad, and saw that Manning's face had darkened, but the others looked to her. "No, ma'am, not one that was still breathing."</p>
<p>"You'll have to one day, and you'll have to get used to it, because it never lets up after."</p>
<p>Palmer's face contorted into one of confusion, and a little bit of anger, but Morgan's was emotionless, showing that same shadow that covered Manning's, but the lights were on and covering her face. "What, are you implying that I should have left O'Hara behind?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>It was as if she had been slapped, and the goodwill that had been between them felt like it evaporated in an instant. Palmer started to respond, but Manning spoke up.</p>
<p>"She's right, Palmer. Much as I hate to say it…"</p>
<p>Palmer whirled on Manning. "Why? All of our time in the Corps and we get it beat into our skulls 'no man left behind', now I'm being told none of it matters?"</p>
<p>Manning was more controlled in his response. "No, ma'am. Just that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. O'Hara slowed us down, kept one of our guns out of action. Only purpose she served in the entire simulation was as a trap that didn't even work."</p>
<p>"Manning has it right, Palmer. A mission where you have a wounded Spartan, or even a wounded Marine, is fine if you can break contact and reach friendly lines. This mission was not one of those. If you have a deadline, are being hunted and constantly harassed by superior forces, and you've got a Spartan that's ineffective, they're dead weight."</p>
<p>Morgan's eyes were locked onto Palmer's, and Palmer started to say something, only to have her teeth click together when she shut her mouth. No matter how wrong it felt, Palmer ran through it all and realized that the other woman was right, and she hated that.</p>
<p>Even as an ODST, Palmer had never just left someone behind until they were confirmed dead. Even then, tags and ammo were taken if nothing else, and a trap set. She had done exactly that, had tried to get all of her people out, and even used O'Hara as a trap to hopefully survive and deny the enemy access to her body or her armor.</p>
<p>But it still stung.</p>
<p>Morgan's face seemed to lose that darkened shade, and she took a deep breath. "Good work, Vegas, for what it's worth. Use this exercise to grow as a team and cover any weaknesses you see in the playback. We'll do it again some day and see if you win next time. Until then, use the rest of the day to go about business as usual. You're dismissed."</p>
<p>The rest of Vegas started to break up and return to the rigging facility, but Morgan called out to Palmer. "Palmer, stay here for a minute."</p>
<p>Palmer turned, her expression schooled, but her anger still simmering inside.</p>
<p>"You did good too. You did everything right." The other woman gestured to follow, and started moving. Palmer did as she was told. "But think about what I said. Talk with Manning about it. He seemed to understand where I was coming from. It's never easy to leave a comrade behind, alive or dead, but it has to be done sometimes or everyone gets wiped out and then it's all for nothing. Five people die instead of one."</p>
<p>Palmer was silent for a time, and Morgan let the silence hang as they walked back towards the rigging facility at a sedated pace. When she spoke up, the fire had left her words. "We shouldn't have to do that anymore. We aren't at war with the whole Covenant, worlds aren't getting glassed every other day. We're <em>Spartans</em>. We have the armor, the augmentations, the numbers to make a difference! We should be able to make it out of every mission with our comrades, and if not that, then their bodies too!" It was almost like she was pleading for it to be true.</p>
<p>Morgan started to respond, but sound never came out of her mouth, flooding into her mind instead as she stopped in place, eyes staring but not seeing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Spartans never die, Jorge. They're just missin' in action.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"</em>Hey!" Morgan's eyes refocused, and she saw Palmer's face in front of her, the woman's eyes searching, as if looking for something in the Spartan III's stare. "You alright?</p>
<p>Morgan nodded slowly, before nodding again, quicker, as if trying to lie her way through. "Yeah, I'm good. Just… thought of something familiar is all."</p>
<p>"You sure?"</p>
<p>"Positive." Morgan wasn't sure if she was positive. Were the old wounds threatening to reopen again? Scars being ripped apart and forcing her to relive her worst memories that she had tried her best to bury? Again, she tried to speak, but a chirp from her armor grabbed her attention, and she looked down at the TACPAD on her wrist. She had a message on her terminal, priority one, classification way above Top Secret. Frowning, she started moving again. "We'll talk more later, Palmer. Until then, get with your team, do a proper debrief, and take some time to mull it all over."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
<p>With that, Morgan left the other woman behind and jogged for her office, shutting and sealing the door behind her. Moving to sit in the chair, she called out to Monsoon again. "Monsoon, cut all surveillance to the room, including your own, until I've come out."</p>
<p>Monsoon didn't respond, but Morgan knew by now that the AI wasn't going to mess around and try something sneaky. The Navy, and ONI in particular, didn't want a snoopy AI on their flagship.</p>
<p>Waiting a few moments to ensure that everything had been done, Morgan opened her messaging system on her terminal, and opened a message at the top that was average and merely referenced Spartan training schedules and minor issues reported up from her chain. Leaning forward, she dropped her head to sit parallel with a small camera in the top of her terminal's monitor.</p>
<p>With a red scanning beam coming out of it, her eye was given a pass and she frowned at the discomfort. On the screen, a message that had been piggybacked and hidden deep within the code that had carried the letter, was pulled up on the screen.</p>
<p>The pyramid eye of the Office of Naval Intelligence stared back at her, and she swallowed. Nothing was there besides the symbol, and it slowly started to rotate as she waited. Something was happening.</p>
<p>After a moment, the symbol disappeared, and a woman came up in its place. Her hair was pulled back in a savagely tight bun, and not a single hair was out of place. Her features were strong and sharp, as if her facial bones and muscles had been put in place by a master sculptor. Keen eyes stared back through the camera, looking at Morgan as if she was a hunter, and Morgan felt that sickly feeling in her gut, even before her eyes caught sight of the ONI badge on the woman's uniform.</p>
<p>Admiral Serin Osman sat at her desk, in a nondescript room, with her hands on her desk, fingers interlaced, and grinned at Morgan.</p>
<p>"Commander, welcome back."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Turn Up the Heat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>"<em>Hey, check it out!"</em></p><p>
  <em>"No way… a Spartan!?"</em>
</p><p>"<em>For real? You guys better not be shi-"</em></p><p>"<em>No, man, I'm serious! She's here!"</em></p><p>- Wounded Marines upon seeing a Spartan returning to the battlefield after all reports stated they had been killed, 2552, Battle of Voi.</p><hr/><p>Green eyes roved over the document being displayed on the screen in the <em>Infinity'</em>s primary briefing room. Morgan stood off to the side in her armor with her helmet off, crossing her arms and taking in every detail. Others sat in their assigned chairs, key members and heads of the different departments and units that would be most useful when the contents of the document were brought up.</p><p>Something had happened a few years back, involving a Forerunner artifact that had given a burst of data, deciphered as a set of coordinates for a Forerunner world or installation. Nobody knew exactly what it was, but contingency plans were always important. She felt for the officers that had to create plan upon plan when some of them – most of them – wouldn't work. Then again, they did sign up for it, so she couldn't offer too much pity.</p><p>A cursory glance around the room showed a multitude of personnel. Del Rio and Lasky in the front, on either side of the screen. Several men in lab coats sat in a group near the front, members of <em>Infinity</em>'s science department.</p><p>Personnel wearing the fatigues of a marine ground commander, including a stocky colonel and his top NCO were near the middle, both taking notes. Another pair of men in the black fatigues of ODSTs were nearby, and her eyes roved over the face of an ODST captain and a more familiar face, one Master Sergeant Marcus Stacker. They had locked eyes in the beginning of the briefing, but had no time to talk or connect. She would catch him another time, when there was less preparation to do. Another set of officers and NCOs served as the ship's vehicle commanders, ready to operate the heavy machinery that was stored in the hangar in case of a massive assault that would require a mammoth. As far as she could tell, a brigade's worth of Marines were onboard, along with a battalion of ODSTs, at the least. <em>Infinity</em> could conduct a protracted ground war with those numbers alone.</p><p>Next, she caught sight of several pilots, wearing Navy and Marine flight suits. A commander in charge of the CAG, a couple of lieutenant commanders in charge of subunits and different squadrons, and the dropship corps, almost all piloted by Marines. She had seen Hocus in there somewhere, but they would speak later. Even now, she could see her wife taking notes and muttering to one of the other pilots about something, completely invested in the briefing.</p><p>Other, smaller departments were involved, such as engineering, but they were less likely to be needed, only attached to the briefing to be aware of a sudden change to combat operations if need be.</p><p>Finally, the Spartan Branch. That was her playing field. Behind her, Sarah Palmer stood quietly, taking notes of her own for Morgan. It had been a few weeks since the simulation with Vegas, and Palmer had simmered about the lesson that Morgan had tried to teach until it finally got completely through her head, and they returned to how things had been. If anything, Palmer had improved slightly as a fireteam leader in subsequent War Games simulations, and Morgan was pleased with progress, even if it wasn't too much. But, progress was progress.</p><p>Another teal colored Spartan was off to Palmer's right. Wearing the Atlas armor variant, the Spartan was bulky and cut an imposing figure slightly larger than Morgan's, even with her oversized pauldrons and angular chest piece. His helmet was on, reflecting the world through a visor that was a similar golden color to Morgan's own. While Palmer might have been one of her top fireteam leaders and a company level commander that would help with the later brief of the rest of the Spartans, Spartan Paul August was a dedicated staff member and operator for the Spartan Branch. He would also act as a member of Morgan's own fireteam should she ever need to actually deploy. Her days of running on her own were over again, but for how long, she had no idea.</p><p>During combat operations where she commanded from <em>Infinity</em>, he would be an operator, guiding fireteams on the ground and speaking with her voice, giving her orders when she was overseeing other elements of operations. But on the ground, when she stepped onto the field herself, he would be almost like a body guard more than a fighter, carrying a heavily modified SAW for Spartan use to pin enemies down while she closed and engaged with the enemy with her shotgun. There were others, but he was the best when it came to a mix of on and off the field operations on her staff.</p><p>Del Rio's voice droned on as he went to the next slide. "Coordinates from the artifact have been deemed by FLEETCOM to have some significance, and <em>Infinity</em> has been dispatched to observe and report findings after investigating whatever may be waiting for us. That being said, we're an estimated 12 hours out from our destination. Consider the location to be hostile, and move your units to REDCON 2, prepare to deploy immediately should the need arise."</p><p>He clicked onto the next slide, and started to open his mouth, when Monsoon appeared on the AI pedestal next to him. "<em>Captain, sensors report a distress signal, standard UNSC frequency, but an older reporting code. </em><em>It's the signal we picked up at our last course change.</em><em>"</em></p><p>Frowning, Del Rio's face changed, his ever present sneer only looking like he had been personally insulted by the AI's entrance to his briefing. "And?"</p><p>"<em>Still investigating, but initial coordinates report it to be…</em>" She stopped for a moment, an eternity in the time of an AI. "<em>It's right on top of the coordinates for our artifact, sir."</em></p><p>Del Rio's sneer worsened, and he put his hands behind his back. "Understood. Commander Lasky, continue the briefing. I'll be returning to the bridge to oversee our approach."</p><p>Without another word or waiting for a response, Del Rio left the briefing room, and several people in the seats surrounding the room seemed a little more ill at ease, but they hid it well.</p><p>Lasky watched as the captain left, and he seemed to think for a moment, before continuing on as if nothing had happened. "REDCON 2. Independent briefings will be held, and you can act as you see fit to properly maintain readiness. Flight ops will prepare scheduled rotations for fighter support, at least one battalion of Marines will stand ready to deploy on Pelicans with light ground assets. ODSTs are on alert 5 until further notice. Operational posture will be kept at Radiant Spear, maintain high tempo operational capability for the next 24 hours or until posture change, whichever comes first. Any questions?" No hands were raised. Ultimately, all the commanders in the room had operational authority to handle anything minor. All that this briefing was for was to set the wide ranging application of force and readiness. How things progressed at a minute level would be up to the commanders themselves. "Good. Dismissed."</p><p>People started to stand and file out slowly, muttering to each other and finishing their notes before they left. Morgan locked eyes with Hocus at one point as the pilot turned to leave, but neither moved to talk. They hadn't had much time together since the tour had started. Maybe a couple hours in total over the last month or so. It wasn't optimal, but it got them a little bit of a reprieve when the days were done. All they really got to do anymore together was sleep, and even that was impossible some days.</p><p>Morgan tore her eyes away as her wife disappeared around the bulkhead leading out of the room, and looked back to August. "Get all that?"</p><p>His accent was Canadian, one quick to respond. "Yeah, boss. Already sent it to all the company commanders. They'll be doing their own briefings and coordinating to get all their ducks in a row for a multi-force deployment if need be."</p><p>"Very good. And staff?"</p><p>"Same thing. Already drawing up plans for larger operations and setting rotation for the companies."</p><p>Morgan nodded, almost to herself as she slipped her helmet back on. They would remain in their armor until contact and assume the worst, only leaving it when it was time to stand down. All 300 Spartans on <em>Infinity</em> were armed up and ready to fight at first notice.</p><p>She needed to return to the command center for the Spartans onboard, located near the main bridge, with an alternate location on S Deck, where the rigging facility was. Her staff would meet her there. They would act as operator personnel for teams on the ground or, in case of an operation where she had to deploy for some reason or another, they would deploy with her as her own fireteam, one she'd not yet dubbed. At that point, alternate personnel from the aft bridge would be brought into play in order to provide support for Spartan Operations with a direct line to Del Rio or Lasky as needed.</p><p>Lasky was still in the room, finishing looking over the briefing slides himself, but ever mindful of the three Spartans that had been left, speaking to each other in their helmets and standing as still as statues. When Morgan turned to see him, she thought of something, before looking to her two aides. Activating her helmet speakers, she spoke up. "Palmer, August, move out. Palmer can start briefing her team and company, and August, you'll take up the staff and prep them. Weapons loadouts, armor checks, and medical. Be ready to deploy before our time is up."</p><p>With two positive responses, the Spartans filed out, leaving Morgan with Lasky. He glanced over at her. "Commander. Can I help you with something?"</p><p>"Wanted to know more about the distress signal. We know any details on it or just coordinates?"</p><p>Lasky crossed his arms, turning to face her fully. "Just coordinates for now. Picked it up a couple hours ago when we dropped out of slipspace to change course, but seems like we're close enough now that Monsoon's got an idea of what it may or may not be." He shrugged, unsure of it himself. "We're sailing blind for the most part. No idea what's out there in the black."</p><p>"Understood."</p><p>"One last bit, before we break away. Spartans will be first boots on the ground, wherever this thing is. Pick a group of ten teams. They'll be our vanguard. Other than that, use your last few hours wisely. I'd like it if you spent the last three hours of our trip on the main bridge with us, give your insight into things and be ready to move to the Spartan bridge for immediate combat operations once we've got eyes on."</p><p>"Yes, sir. I'll be there."</p><p>"Good. I'll see you then, Spartan."</p><p>Morgan nodded and left without another word, making her way back down to S Deck, where her team was orchestrating the whole thing until she arrived. Spartan August was already in place, passing things on and getting the ball rolling. Palmer and other commanders were briefing in larger groups. The company structure was far looser than in a regular Marine company. It was only truly in place for organizational purposes. Otherwise, fireteams would deploy and act independently of each other and be handled by an operator as needed. Flexibility was key in Spartan operations.</p><p>Hours passed by as Morgan collected reports, plans, and got her staff together to plug everything into place in one larger plan. Updates came from Marine ground and air elements, and she implemented those too, slotting fireteams where they would be best, figuring out a schedule for deployment between teams that had similar functions, and ultimately making sure nobody would trip over each other.</p><p>Finally, the time came to return to the main bridge and conduct operations from there. Keying the comm for the rigging deck, she gave her orders. "All fireteams, commence final checks and inspections, report to hangars as ordered when complete." Releasing her mic, she looked at her staff.</p><p>"Rest of you, get to the Spartan bridge and get it set up for me to move there after. Castille, you're in charge until then. Grab gear prior just in case."</p><p>Spartan Helen Castille, a former combat surgeon in the Marines, nodded to her. "I'll get it done, ma'am." With that, she held her helmet up, the last piece of the dark naval blue colored Scanner variant armor. The visor attachment was pushed up for the time being, and she slid it onto her head before rapping her armored knuckles against the side, the signal for the rest to suit up. August and the two other members of her team donned their helmets as well, before they all filed out, with Morgan taking up the rear.</p><p>She peeled off from them early on, moving for the main bridge. They would gather her weapons and ammunition for her, knowing by now what she would carry and her preferences. It made it easier and faster than her going there as well. Until she met up with them again, though, she would be working with just the pistol on her thigh.</p><p>Stepping onto the bridge, her arrival caught Lasky's eyes, and several of the bridge crew, but they quickly went back to what they were doing. Morgan stepped up to the holographic table that Del Rio and Lasky were next to, looking at its contents. Del Rio had his face buried in it, and Lasky glanced up to her again.</p><p>"Any changes?" She was quick to get the situation into her mind.</p><p>Lasky nodded. "Our calculations were wrong. We're only an hour out from the coordinates now, and the distress signal shifted with it. We're picking it up through slipspace now."</p><p>An eyebrow raised in her helmet. "So it's capable of transmitting through slipspace?"</p><p>"Seems like it."</p><p>Morgan frowned. "Then we should have picked it up earlier."</p><p>Del Rio spoke up this time. "It doesn't change anything about our situation."</p><p>She was about to respond when a crewman called out. "Sir! We're getting distortion, but the signal is clear enough that we're able to cross check it!"</p><p>Del Rio crossed his arms, looking squarely at the crewman. "What are you getting from it?"</p><p>The crewman started typing in the information, and after a moment, he paled slightly. "It's… the transponder code for the <em>Forward Unto Dawn</em>."</p><p>Several eyes cut towards him before returning to their stations, but Morgan's eyes remained locked on him, and she moved over to his station, not wanting to believe it was true, lest her hopes turn into ash in her mouth. "Are you certain?"</p><p>"Yes, ma'am. I've run it again and it's a complete match."</p><p>She felt her gut start to tighten again, and scanned over the contents of his screen, taking in the information before she reached around the crewman, inputting the information for a third time, personally wanting to ensure it was complete.</p><p>When the database reference came back, it once again showed the <em>Forward Unto Dawn</em>'s transponder code was a perfect match.</p><p>She bit her lip, straightening slowly. Looking back at Lasky and Del Rio, she nodded wordlessly. The two shared a glance, before Del Rio went about giving his orders for preparation to drop out of slipspace and raise shields and weapons. While still an hour out from the beacon, Morgan would have plenty of time to worry about what was lying in store for them.</p><hr/><p>The hour came and went, and Morgan had spent the entire time wondering if they would find what she expected when they got to it. A massive planetoid had been waiting for them when slipspace had spit them out. It was covered in artificial lines, and the planet seemed to be made out of metal. Wreckage was waiting for them, including a shredded Covenant cruiser.</p><p>There was no discernible entrance into the world, but the distress beacon was coming from what was essentially the center of it. Del Rio ordered an open channel, and started speaking once the broadcast started.</p><p>"This is the UNSC <em>Infinity</em>, responding to distress signal from UNSC<em> Forward Unto Dawn</em>. If you can hear this, respond immediately."</p><p>He waited for a few moments, before he repeated the message once, and then a final time. There was no response, and his scowl only deepened the crags of his face. <em>Infinity </em>closed on the world at a sedate pace, with little else to be done.</p><p>Morgan looked over the surface, her arms crossed. Something felt off about the place, but she couldn't quite place it. Maybe a surface mapping scan would show them an entrance into the sphere?</p><p>She was about to suggest it whenever something happened. On the surface of the planet, a single orange light appeared, glaring at them, before a beam shot out from it and hit the <em>Infinity</em>, widening and performing multiple passes.</p><p>Del Rio shouted an order to increase frontal shields, but they weren't being damaged. He started to move to the shielding control console to check it himself, but he didn't make it in time. Arcs of electricity started to shoot out from the console, and multiple others suffered similar issues as the bridge lights moved to the red of combat stations.</p><p>Monsoon appeared on the holotable. "<em>Sir, we're being scanned by the planetoid. Multiple systems failures across the ship, including propulsion. Main reactor is offline. Secondary reactor is offline. Tertiary reactor is </em><em>unstable and failing</em><em>. MAC cannons are offline. Point defense systems are offline. Shielding is up but dropping at a rate of one percent every </em><em>twelve</em><em> seconds. All other systems remain online completely or partially."</em></p><p>Del Rio cursed. On the planet, something else changed. Several sections split and cracked, before sliding back across the surface and revealing a blinding light from the interior of the planet. The ship lurched under their feet, and Del Rio was brought down, Lasky grabbed at the holotable to steady himself, and Morgan's boots were mag locked to the deck to keep her steady. They were being pulled in, and with no way to stop it.</p><p>Del Rio got to his feet, a wound opened on his temple that was bleeding heavily, but wasn't a bad enough wound to warrant anything more than a squirt of biofoam that came from the underside of the holotable, and he dressed the wound quickly. "Open a ship wide channel!" He waited only a second. "All hands, brace for impact."</p><p>He cut the channel next and hit a panel on the holotable. Several restraint pods came from the decking, little more than a shock-absorbant pod with crash webbing and restraints that would protect commanders from additional impacts or lurches in such a situation. Strapping in, Lasky followed suit, and Morgan chose to remain on her own two legs. Her magboots would do the job easily enough.</p><p>They quickly approached the planet, with <em>Infinity</em> being buffeted the whole way as if being thrown about in a hurricane, but none of them had ever imagined something would exist that could just throw <em>Infinity </em>around like a child's toy.</p><p>"Captain, if we get pulled in there, there's no guarantee we're going to be able to get back out!" Lasky called out, watching through the frontal viewport as they rapidly approached.</p><p>"I know that!" Grimacing, he looked worse than usual. "Comm, record this message and leave a pod behind to retransmit on repeat!" When the tech nodded, Del Rio went on. "Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is the UNSC <em>Infinity</em>, an unknown entity has seized control of the ship and we are without power. We are being pulled in and on a collision course with an unidentified Forerunner planet!"</p><p>Pointing at the tech, the tech nodded again and slapped the control to launch the distress beacon. It was done, but they were still out of luck, and within another few minutes, they had been pulled through the hole in the planet, the white light not dimming, but features coming through. On either side of the viewport, her keen eyes could see details, almost like smoke or steam. Another few moments passed, and the bright light gave way to something more natural, revealing a blue sky as they passed through and into the planet's interior.</p><p>Electricity was arcing across the hull repeatedly, and with an open sky and ground beneath them finally, they were going to be going down hard. Green plains, blue water, and heavily wooded jungle made up several biomes as they dropped altitude faster and faster, and when they were about to impact, Morgan called out to brace, readying the bridge crew for what was going to be a very bad time.</p><p>At least, it would be for those that survived.</p><p>The ground rose up to meet them, and <em>Infinity</em> impacted as if Thor had rung the gong, a thunderclap going over the interior of the planet in all directions. A trench in the ground was ripped open like a darkened wound, gouged deep and traveling the three miles it took for the ship to finally come to a halt with a monstrous groan. Alarms went up all over the ship, injuries piled up like the people that hadn't braced well enough, dropped into a pile of themselves that may or may not get back up. One of the operators on the bridge had been launched out of his seat, his crash webbing having snapped and thrown him. Morgan looked over as soon as the shaking had stopped.</p><p>He didn't get back up, and from the way his back was contorted, he wouldn't ever be getting back up again.</p><p>Del Rio ordered the operators on the bridge that weren't in charge of weapons and shields to get on the task of contacting all departments and getting a status report. Lasky joined them, and Del Rio summoned Monsoon to quicken the process.</p><p>Morgan keyed her comms, opening one with all of the command personnel for the Spartans. "Status report."</p><p>August was the first to answer. "<em>Banged up a little, ma'am, but no problems. Castille is already at work."</em></p><p>Palmer next. "<em>Alpha Company is green."</em></p><p>Bravo Company's commander, Spartan Thomas Duren. "<em>Bravo is fine, scrapes and bruises."</em></p><p>Spartan James Holter with Charlie rounded it off. "<em>Charlie has a broken leg, one of us left a dent in the wall. Ready on your orders."</em></p><p>Morgan nodded to herself. "Good. Commanders, deploy your teams throughout the ship. We're on the back foot now and until we get <em>Infinity</em> off the ground again, we're playing defense. Charlie, you have the stern. Bravo, you're amidships. Alpha will handle the bow. Spread your teams on as many decks as you can handle while maintaining rapid response capability. Monsoon will be your primary operator for the time being. Further orders will pass through her. Stay vigilant, stay ready. Bailey out."</p><p>She cut the channel and glanced over at Monsoon. "Monsoon, you get all that?"</p><p>"<em>Yes, Commander. I will deploy your Spartans as best I can."</em></p><p>"Appreciated." With little else to do, Morgan informed Lasky that she would be moving to the Spartan bridge, and when she left, she immediately opened another channel to someone a little closer.</p><p>The comm pickup wasn't immediate, but it didn't take forever. "<em>Hocus here, Commander."</em></p><p>The accent her wife's voice was laced with always soothed her, and she committed it to her mind as a calming exercise. "Status?"</p><p>"<em>Green, ma'am. Birds are still ready to fly if you need us."</em></p><p>"And you?"</p><p>"<em>No injuries, ops had me on standby for second wave. Spilled my damn coffee though."</em></p><p>"Coffee grows on trees, Hocus. Contact me if anything changes."</p><p>"<em>Yes'm. Out."</em></p><p>They remained professional, as much as they could given the situation. They were both hardened enough to know that attachment couldn't cloud their minds, couldn't let them get distracted during an incident. That led to deaths, and neither wanted to wonder what would happen if they got their partner killed. They had both lost too many to lose the most important piece.</p><p>Stepping onto the Spartan bridge, Morgan got to work. "What's changed since planetfall?"</p><p>Castille, having finished working on the injured crewmen in the Spartan bridge, reported. "Spartans and Marine forces are dispersing throughout the ship. Vehicle bay is a mess but they're bringing what they can online to aid in defensive posture. Warthog patrols so far through the maintenance corridors, working on getting them outside. A couple of Mantis walkers are getting spooled up and taking position near launchers on the exterior until they're back up."</p><p>A hum, and Morgan moved for the holographic table. "What about air assets?"</p><p>"Mostly CAP Pelicans that were sitting Alert Five. Troopships are grounded but ready, no need to scramble them yet."</p><p>The holotable showed the location of the Spartan bridge on a 3D model of <em>Infinity</em>, zooming out further to reveal the ship in its entirety, as well as small models of Pelicans that were being updated in real time with transponder data. Other small models showed up as well over time, including the aforementioned Mantises and a couple of Warthogs and other fast attack vehicles on the ground outside the crash site.</p><p>Nothing could be done for the moment, and all they could do was stay appraised of the situation and keep the roving bands of Spartans in check. After half an hour, something changed.</p><p>A warning icon, off to the starboard side and to the rear, showed an enemy aircraft was approaching rapidly, far faster than the speed of sound, and multiple other contacts were spotted as well, including Phantoms escorted by Banshee flights.</p><p>"Shit." Morgan spoke for all of them. "Prep the teams for anti-boarding operations. Covenant forces are inbound, and there's a lot of them."</p><p>Her staff and Monsoon did all the work for her, and when she called in to Del Rio, he was already aware of it.</p><p>"<em>I see them, Commander. We're dealing with them as much as we can. Weapons are slowly coming online, but shields are still down. Keep whoever's knocking on our door off of my ship."</em></p><p>She didn't have time to respond, and the channel was cut. She cursed quietly. At the rate things were spiraling, it was only starting to look worse and worse with each passing minute.</p><p>With a moment's thought, she called out to Monsoon. "Monsoon, we're joining the defense of the ship. Anything big happens, notify me, but until then, we're joining the rest of the teams. Staff callsign is being updated, prepare for change."</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma'am. Standing by for change, orders noted."</em></p><p>"Command fireteam will be designated Fireteam Crown."</p><p>"<em>Noted, designation changed."</em></p><p>Finally, Morgan turned to her team. "Now it's time for us to move. We'll stay near the bridge, support Alpha if they need us, but primary objective is to ensure any breachers remain outside of it, rather than in. Where's my gear?"</p><p>August grabbed a case that held her shotgun, ammunition, and extra magazines for her pistol, handing it over to her. Slapping it down on the holotable, she grabbed the contents, put them in their places, and she was ready to fight.</p><p>Leaving the Spartan bridge at a jog, they made good time. It felt good to be able to heft the reassuring weight of a shotgun again. It was a new model, different from what she had used before, but it still worked the same. It would still spit out a cloud of buckshot and give someone plenty of new holes to breathe through and probably some lead poisoning.</p><p>Closing on the bridge again, they spread out in a blocking formation, each taking a position closer or further away from the bridge doors through the only access choke point. August would be the first contact, his heavy armor and LMG set up in a defensive position that would rip anything to shreds. Next was one of the other Spartans, Spartan Travis Wright, a former Force Recon Marine turned Spartan that wore blue Pathfinder armor. He was their point man and carried a heavily modified battle rifle that had been rechambered to fire a heavier round, while retaining enough ammunition to serve as a proper marksman rifle. A middle point between the high power, low capacity SRS series, and the still fairly strong battle rifles. Next was Castille, in the center to rapidly react to medical emergencies. Then Spartan Leonard Hammonds was next in cobalt colored Marauder pattern armor with a modernized MA5B and an attached underbarrel grenade launcher, ready for suppressive fire and maneuver tactics, the squad's raider. Finally, Morgan was the last step towards the bridge, remaining close by the door and the pair of Spartans that remained guarding it at all times.</p><p>Instead of waiting in the corridor that led straight to the door, she slipped into one of the side rooms dedicated to commanding ground operations. Pulling up the model of the ship once more, she watched as more and more sections of the ship were breached by enemy forces, as well as watching Pelicans and Phantoms duke it out in the sky. The unidentified object that had been the first contact was a sphere, fairly large, and it remained inert most of the time. All it ever seemed to do was to scan the ship, similarly to the planet's scanning before pulling them in.</p><p>She wasn't in there for long when her watch was interrupted. Stepping into the room, Commander Lasky gave her new orders. "Get your team, we're sending recon birds out. Monsoon has found out that what pulled us in was a gravity well of some sort, like a tractor beam. Signals in the jungle around the ship are possible connection points to a larger system that might be able to help us find out what's wrong. Maybe be able to find the cartographer for this place."</p><p>"Understood. I'll get it done."</p><p>"Just one more thing, Commander. I'll be going with you."</p><p>Inside, Morgan frowned. He wasn't a Spartan, and he was the ship's XO. Why was he intent on going out into the field? All this would do was increase the chance of something going wrong, and she didn't like babysitting. "Am I going to be able to talk you out of it?" He shook his head, and she sighed into her helmet as she keyed a comms channel. "Crown, we're moving for the hangars and going for a walk."</p><p>Four green status lights winked back, and she moved past Lasky to the door, waiting for her team to come into view before she gestured him forward. She wasn't happy about this at all, but he had enough authority to tell her to shove it if she disagreed.</p><p>Entering the hangar, several Pelicans were already stopped and waiting for her team. Others were filled with Marines, ready to go out in the jungle and do what Marines did. The Spartans would remain here, save for Crown.</p><p>When she filed into the bird, she stepped into the cockpit. A pilot and copilot were waiting, but neither was Hocus. "We ready?"</p><p>"Yes, ma'am. You were our last group. Lifting off and spreading out now in pairs."</p><p>With that, the Pelicans lifted from the deck and started to exit the hangar bays, and when they floated out, they were ignored by the large sphere. With no Phantoms or Banshees nearby and ready to bother them, though, it was a serene flight for a while.</p><p>But like all good things, it wouldn't last. Morgan was sitting near the bay door, ready to rush out whenever they touched down. It was closed, for obvious reasons, but the sight of orange colored bolts of energy passing by was enough to catch her attention, and she frowned as the Pelican started going evasive.</p><p>"What's going on up there?" She asked the pilots what was happening, and one of them grunted as they responded.</p><p>"<em>Taking ground fire, unknown capability, but it's not fitting any of the weapons profiles we know of. Maybe small arms, but-"</em> He was cut off as the Pelican was jolted heavily, nearly nosing down completely before he got a hold of it. "<em>We just lost an engine! Mayday, mayday, mayday! </em>Infinity<em>, Echo Seven-One is hit and going down. Transponder active, setting down ten miles from the ship!"</em></p><p>The Pelican was hit again, and this time, a massive hole appeared in the bay floor as a round penetrated through and splashed against the ceiling, splattering against it and sending bits of energy out in all directions that did little to their shields, but Morgan was quick to shield Lasky either way.</p><p>Cursing under her breath, she turned to Lasky. "We're going down, ten miles out. Ground fire is hot and our LZ probably will be too. Get ready to move."</p><p>He nodded in response, his lips set in a tight line that did little to ease either of their minds as the Pelican rapidly lost altitude. Grabbing hold of the stability straps on the ceiling, Morgan held on, and waited for the impact as the world outside began to spin with the loss of power and sent the Pelican towards the ground.</p><p>Several revolutions and a five hundred meter drop in altitude had them smashing into the ground and skidding through a clearing until the Pelican slammed into a copse of trees and come to a groaning halt. Morgan's boots had kept her in place, but Lasky had been shoved against his restraints hard enough that it would leave some nasty bruising. The rest of the Spartans had been strapped in, for what little the straps would do, and mag locked their own boots. None of them had been forced out of their seats.</p><p>Immediately, she went for the cockpit, the door refusing to open from the damage, and so she forced it open and stepped in.</p><p>The co-pilot was slumped in his seat, limp and not responsive. Her check of his bio-signs got a negative response, and she frowned. The pilot would have been the same, but it seemed that one of the energy shots that had hit them had come up through the floor of the flight deck and disintegrated most of him. His body was gone, save for parts of his arms, still gripping the control stick and throttle bar.</p><p>Grimacing, she grabbed the co-pilot's dog tags and moved back into the blood tray. "Pilots didn't make it. We need to get out of this transport and make best time either toward our objective, or scrub it and find an LZ for evac."</p><p>Lasky frowned. "We're only a mile from our objective point. We can hoof it there and call for evac that way."</p><p>Morgan nodded. "Fine, we'll go for the objective. Until then, I'll try to connect with Echo Seven-Two." Her Spartans followed her orders without needing to micromanage, and Wright took point again, his modified battle rifle leading the way as she tried to raise Seven-Two's Marines. "This is Commander Bailey, Echo Seven-Two, say status."</p><p>There was nothing, and she tried again a few moments later as Fireteam Crown got underway and disappeared into the bushes. A third try finally got a response, and she felt some relief, even if the channel was tainted with static.</p><p>"<em>This is Lance Corporal Espada, I read you, Commander. We were brought down by ground fire, same as you. Half our number are KIA and our team leader was killed in the crash. Sending transponder ping now."</em></p><p>Morgan waited another moment, before her HUD responded to the two way transponder ping that Marine armor had been outfitted with for more aid in maneuvering separately when units were split up. It was only a few hundred meters, and she could see a black smoke plume rising through the trees in that direction. "Copy all, Corporal. Dig in and wait. We'll pick you up and move for the objective. Give us ten at most."</p><p>Cutting the channel, Morgan called out to her team. "Some survivors made it out. We'll grab them and move for objective. Spread out and we'll make good time, hopefully."</p><p>They did, for a while, and halfway to the Marines, something changed. There was a feeling in Morgan's gut that told her something was about to go wrong. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she followed that warrior's instinct that had been honed for so many years before it took a break. Now, it was needed again.</p><p>There was an odd sound, like a whoosh, and the air started to shimmer between August, the second man in the column, and Hammonds, the center.</p><p>A massive creature made of steel and orange lighting seemed to appear out of thin air with a screech. Twin orange dots on its armored head were like lit coals, and its large body was larger than even two of the Spartans. One spindly arm had a weapon attached to the end, a rifle of some sort, and the other a large, glowing blade.</p><p>Her eyes latched on to it and her shotgun was up, the trigger already being pulled as she gave the order that her Spartans had picked up on with an enemy appearing in their midst.</p><p>"Focus fire!" Her cry went up even as the creature lifted its weapon arm and fired at Hammonds, the Spartan dodging, just barely, before the rest of them unloaded on it. It screamed at the fact that they seemed to be more competent than whatever else it had seen, and teleported again, coming out closer to Morgan.</p><p>It stepped out of its portal at her, blade already coming up in an arc. She was quick to push Lasky back, sending him to the ground as she backed up, shotgun raised and another shell going down the tube as time slowed down enough for her to properly react.</p><p>The blade missed, just barely, and scraped across her shields enough to bring them to near nothing. Her shot, however, was true. Pellets blasted from the barrel in a haze of smoke and fire, and hit the machine dead center. It went down with its chest caved in from the blast, but wasn't dead yet.</p><p>Moving to try and raise its weapon again, Morgan was quicker, closing the distance and bringing a heavily armored boot down on its rifle arm before racking the slide on the shotgun and pumping two more blasts into its chest.</p><p>Another scream, and it fell limp, before disintegrating into nothingness, but the rifle had been left behind, and Morgan frowned, bending down to scoop it up just in case before sliding it onto her back. A few moments passed before she called out. "Report!"</p><p>Several green lights went up in response, and Lasky was being helped to his feet by Castille. Glancing back at him, she breathed a sigh of relief. Things would only get worse from here.</p><p>"Castille, stick with Lasky. Rest of you, increase spacing, diamond formation. Any more of those big things come out at us, I want enough spacing that we don't club each other whipping around."</p><p>More status lights, and she took up a new position on the left side, while Lasky and Castille stuck in the center. They were able to get through the jungle until it got even denser, and went through more encounters with whatever those things had been, but few got as lucky as the first one, and her Spartans made short work of whatever else tried to stop them. The entirety of their trip had distant gunfire from Marine rifles and the same odd sound that came from those new enemy weapons before everything went quiet again. Morgan didn't like quiet.</p><p>The Marine transponder signal was nearby, and Morgan called out on the comms. "Corporal Espada, we're here, ready to move?" No answer, and she grimaced, but kept moving. "Corporal?" Her words seemed to have been pointless, as in front of her, Wright had stopped moving and held his hand up, a closed fist, before opening his hand and slicing it horizontally, palm down. Nothing good was in sight.</p><p>Moving forward, Morgan realized why. The Marines in question were scattered across a clearing, most of them having been shot by those nasty rifles the big bastards carried, and one had even been cut in half by one of the swords. She cursed softly to herself.</p><p>"Keep moving. Nothing we can do now. Gather tags on the way through but it's a secondary matter."</p><p>Green status lights, and Lasky didn't question her orders. He was out of his field, and he knew it. They continued on and scooped up whatever they could, with Morgan taking an actual assault rifle into her hands and handing it over to Lasky. His magnum was little more than a pea shooter as far as she was concerned, and he took it without any issues, as well as the additional mags, shoving them into the pockets on his uniform.</p><p>Carrying on through the jungle, they made it to their destination, and the jungle was cut short by a wide door that had a console on the right side. Her blue armored hand came up and gestured to it, her index and middle finger extending alone and gesturing towards the panel once, then again, before her hand returned to her shotgun. Get the door open, get inside, get back to <em>Infinity</em>.</p><p>Wright stepped up to the plate, his Pathfinder armor having an enhanced cyberwarfare suite integrated into it. He was able to make a path through foliage and steel alike with his armor and skillset. The rest covered, weapons up and scanning the trees, waiting for another mechanical demon to step out of nowhere and come at them.</p><p>But they were lucky enough to make it through the time it took to break into the room without any unwanted guests. A green light pinged on her squad's roster, and she sent one in return. The rest of the squad immediately started pulling back towards Wright, weapons up until they had all backed into the open door and Wright closed it off from the interior.</p><p>With their position safe for the time being, Morgan let her weapon down. "Wright, see if you can find a passthrough into the system through the door controls, or at least a place to begin. Rest of you, repack mags, stay ready. No reason to believe they can't attack us in here too just because the doors are shut."</p><p>Frowning, she moved closer to Lasky. "Regret leaving the ship yet?"</p><p>He returned the frown without knowing she was doing it. "Not exactly, but I think I should have let you all out here without me holding your leash."</p><p>"Honestly? Probably. I don't mind babysitting, but we're not exactly in a good position for it at the moment."</p><p>Lasky grimaced. "Sorry about that."</p><p>Morgan hummed in response as she got a contact on her motion tracker. This time it was friendly. There were no enemy contacts following it, but she was quick to respond. "Contact! Friendly!" Her eyes narrowed. A single contact? On the opposite side from <em>Infinity</em>? She had no idea how they had gotten where they were, but she would get them out of here one way or another. "Open the door, retrieve the contact, fall back inside. Move!"</p><p>Green lights all, and she stacked up on the door with them. They were spread across it, weapons up and ready to push out when it split open and started to rise and sink into the building itself. Her Spartans took the lead, and her shotgun was up as she scanned outside the door, but when she saw the figure standing there, her mouth went dry.</p><p>She saw a familiar figure in the olive colored armor that seemed as still as a statue, damaged and scratched to pieces, holding an assault rifle in practiced hands. There was nothing in the golden visor that spoke to her other than what she'd expected to be nothing more than a ghost. It had been too long, and she'd thought him dead, but standing in front of her was the Master Chief himself.</p><p>Her Spartans continued to clear the area, none of them distracted by the legendary Spartan that they had come to get. She swallowed, and their visors met. After a moment, she got her words back, looking him up and down.</p><p>"You haven't grown all that much since we last saw each other, Chief."</p><p>His gravelly baritone sounded just as it had the last time she'd seen him. "Sorry to disappoint."</p><p>Without really thinking, a ghost of a smile came to her face, and she came back to the battlefield. Calling out to Crown, she raised her weapon again and ordered them to retreat back into the structure and seal it. The Chief moved forward as well, his assault rifle clasped in steady hands as Lasky closed the distance, his hand already out.</p><p>"Tom Lasky, first officer on the <em>Infinity</em>. Never thought I'd see you again."</p><p>If the Chief recognized him, he didn't respond, but took the outstretched hand. Morgan was about to speak when her comms suite buzzed.</p><p>"<em>...-</em><em>ground forces are ordered to return to </em>Infinity<em> immediately!"</em></p><p>Morgan frowned at the sound of Del Rio's angry sounding orders. "<em>Infinity</em> Actual's on the comm, Commander. Responding now." She switched her speakers to send out comms chatter as well, and off to the side, she saw Wright look back at her with a thumbs up. He had found their objective. "<em>Infinity</em>, this is Commander Bailey. We've accomplished our objective, but our bird's down and we have no contact with any other advance forces. Approximately 10 miles from the ship's drop site."</p><p>"<em>Then return to the ship immediately. I need those coordinates.</em>"</p><p>She stopped for a second, confused, before going on. "Sir, we're going to need transport back to the ship or it'll-"</p><p>"<em>Make it happen!</em>"</p><p>She had no chance to respond when the comm cut out, and she felt a hint of anger. "Son of a bitch… Alright, we're in charge of sourcing a ride."</p><p>A familiar voice sounded from the Master Chief's direction. "<em>You were sent out on a scouting run in the middle of an attack on the ship</em>?"</p><p>Cortana's snark hadn't eased a bit. "<em>Infinity</em> was supposed to be capable of covering our flights with onboard weapons, but we weren't expecting native forces to be as beefy as they are." A pause. "Good to see you again, Cortana."</p><p>A hint of pleasure entered the AI's voice. "<em>Likewise, Morgan."</em></p><p>Lasky finally entered the conversation. "If we're going to be getting a ride out of here, we'll need to clear an LZ or we're going to run out of breathing room real fast. I know you only just got here, Master Chief, but… you wouldn't be ready and willing to help us break open a landing zone, would you?"</p><p>The big man in his olive armor responded, a hint of a joke in his voice. "I could be persuaded." Lasky's face seemed confused, before the Chief went on. "I'll handle it and call back when it's been cleared."</p><p>Morgan was quick to join him. "I'll go as well. Crown, stay here, guard Lasky."</p><p>Green status lights responded quickly, and Crown dispersed throughout the room, weapons ready as Wright moved to join them at the door, one hand going to the back of his helmet as he went on with his other, inputting several commands on the control panel. He looked up to Morgan, his voice carrying through in a low pitch. "Be careful, Commander. No idea how many of those things might pop out at you. We'll be waiting. Here's the data we snatched," he finished, holding out a data chip that he had pulled from the helmet he wore.</p><p>Taking it, she slotted it into her own helmet and nodded at him, and the door started to shift open at the other Spartan's command, letting them step back out into the sunlight that could pierce the jungle canopy overhead. Then, as quick as it had opened, it closed behind them, and they were alone again.</p><p>Cortana's voice was almost cheery, in a sense. "<em>Looks like the gang's back together again."</em></p><p>Morgan snorted in response, her shotgun up and scanning as they moved forward, away from the door. "Didn't think I'd ever see either of you again. What happened?"</p><p>"<em>Oh, you know, floating through space for a couple years, alone with my thoughts. It was a good time. I took pictures!"</em></p><p>Morgan's helmet tilted, glancing over at the Chief, who looked back without a word. "Right. Still, it's good to have you both back."</p><p>The Chief nodded, and they took a little more distance between each other, Morgan's eyes glancing down to her motion tracker. Silence until Cortana spoke up. "<em>Topographical scans indicate a clearing big enough for a dropship to land, not too far."</em></p><p>"Understood." Morgan's response was immediate, and she thought of something. "Cortana, any idea what we're fighting against?"</p><p>"<em>Long story, Commander, but in short, native defense forces. Forerunner in origin and they've caused more than a little trouble for us so far."</em></p><p>"Yeah, you can say that again. Their weapons are capable of bringing down Pelicans, apparently. One of those big bastards dropped us with no problems."</p><p>"<em>Not surprising. I have no idea </em><em>how much we haven't seen yet."</em></p><p>Morgan hummed in response as they pushed through another route, and more distant fire rose up out of the jungle. She was about to speak again when another portal opened up in front of her. With the need to command no longer in play, her shotgun was up and the trigger pulled back before the weapon bucked against her shoulder, roaring at the Forerunner fighter that stepped out at its wielder.</p><p>Buckshot blasted out in its pattern, 15 tungsten pellets impacting against the chest of the Promethean Knight and piercing the heavy armor as if it wasn't even there. It went down in slow motion, green eyes tracking it all the way down as practiced hands racked the slide and, in another instant, put a second shell into its chest before her hand dropped from the slide and into her ammunition pouch, expertly reloading the weapon in a flash.</p><p>It was over in less than two seconds, and smoke was still wafting from the barrel as she glanced back up at the Chief. He nodded to her, his weapon up and slowly going back to low ready. He approved. Of course he would. She hadn't missed a step in all those years.</p><p>They pushed further into the jungle, clearing out Promethean forces in near silence. Their comms went unused, status lights signaling their status after each fight. It was as if they had never been apart, although, things had changed. She didn't have a busted rib anymore, and wasn't running on fumes as her mind tried to rip itself apart from months of nonstop fighting and losing everything that she cared about.</p><p>Five years was a long time, and she pushed the thought away as she looked back to the Chief. His large back was to her as he pulled down the trigger on the last enemy in another clearing, his boot stomped down on its arm as it fell limp, his rifle's report echoing through the skies above.</p><p>She had long ago come to terms with the idea that he was dead, and with a moment of realization, she remembered what it must have been like for him when she handed him Jorge's tags on the <em>Dawn</em> all those years ago. It made her feel a little uneasy, to finally be conscious of the fact that he had faded from her memory for so long, and she felt bad about it in a way. She had remembered Noble many times over the years, usually fading from her mind, but appearing once again on those dark nights where the nightmares came back and her sister's voice sounded again, far away but still loud.</p><p>Swallowing, she pushed it from her mind. This was no time to dwell on it, and she wouldn't allow herself to fall back to old habits. She was relieved that at least they didn't have to speak to each other. She needed time to think, and now wasn't a good time or place.</p><p>It never was, if she was honest with herself, but Hocus had spent too much time and work on her for Morgan to just push it all away and let it fester. She would need to find the pilot later and open up a little. A month of little contact with her wife was noticeable, and if nothing else, she was glad that she could at least see her during the days, however little. A full tour without her, however, would have been unbearable, much to the Spartan's chagrin.</p><p>She had been fighting on autopilot, her body keeping the tempo up even while her mind inspected other things, and the sound of her comms buzzing in her ear was enough to drag her out of her reverie.</p><p>It was the Chief. "Cortana, how much further to the LZ?"</p><p>"<em>You do your job and let me do mine, okay!?" </em>Her reply was angry sounding, full of irritation, and Morgan was taken aback at the sound of the AI's heated words.</p><p>The Chief pulled Cortana's data chip from a nearby pedestal, where he had slotted her into to open another door that had blocked her path. He glanced back at Morgan as he reslotted it into his helmet, more than aware that her golden visor was watching him, and he could tell the twin green irises inside were doing the same.</p><p>Whatever else was said, she didn't hear, and he turned away, moving through the open door. Something was different, off. Cortana had never done an outburst like that before, and she frowned as she followed him inside. She had detected something else in Cortana's voice, a warble, or a shift in her tone, that was definitely not normal. It left a pit in her stomach as she thought back to her earlier mental woes.</p><p>Five years. The majority of a smart AI's lifespan. Only two more were left to Cortana, and the amount of data that had been pulled in on the Halo array and the Ark itself, not to mention whatever had come from High Charity, made her stomach tighten up enough to worry her.</p><p>Something was wrong.</p><p>They moved around a corner, and Morgan's eyes narrowed as she saw a group of Covenant troops and a Knight. She raised her weapon to fire, but realized something else was amiss. The Knight was gesturing to the troopers, as if giving orders, and she cursed. "Knight's directing the Covies. Looks like we're getting deeper in this shit hole."</p><p>"<em>I noticed as well. It's astonishing just how much they're working together already…"</em></p><p>"Already? How long have you been dealing with them?"</p><p>"<em>Not long, a day or two at this rate, but we came face to face with the Forerunner in charge of the Prometheans. Nasty character, doesn't like Humans much, or well, at all."</em></p><p>"More to brief. We clear this out, you fill me in later."</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma'am."</em></p><p>The Chief was the first to fire as Morgan closed range, firing the shotgun and choosing her targets. A beam rifle shot passed over her head, and she grunted as she kept one hand on the slide for the shotgun and her other dropped from the trigger to her magnum, ripping it off and aiming at the sniper before firing and painting the wall behind it with bits of skull and brain. She whipped around, bringing the pistol down to her hip before putting a pair of shots into a Grunt and sending it to the ground, the magnum returning to her hip as she brought the shotgun back into play.</p><p>The LZ was cleared quickly, and she made sure of it. Opening a comm channel to Crown, she ordered them to regroup. "Landing zone secured, move up."</p><p>Lasky responded, sounding relieved. "<em>Good work, Commander. I'll get the coordinates for-"</em></p><p>His voice was cut off as a new player entered the channel, priority comms from <em>Infinity</em>. "<em>Mayday, mayday, mayday! Code red! Hostile elements are attempting to gain access to the bridge! All ground elements are to return to the ship immediately and repel boarders!"</em></p><p>She grimaced, even as a Pelican's downwash started to buffet them, the bird lowering to the ground quickly. In her comm, she heard other voices enter as Del Rio continued to give his orders. An explosion, then gunfire filled the channel, and cut out.</p><p>Lasky was quick to pick up again, giving his orders as if he had a plan. "<em>We'll make our way there and get another bird, until then, you have tactical command of the forward assault force. Sending nav coordinates to you now."</em></p><p>"We'll get it done, sir."</p><p>"<em>I know you will. Lasky out."</em></p><p>The Pelican set down, its landing gear shifting as she stepped aboard and moved to the cockpit. In the front seat, a familiar face looked back at her, but her normal smile was cut off, replaced by a grimace. Hocus was in charge of this bird. "Ma'am. Coordinates?"</p><p>"Already sent, Hocus. Get us airborne, keep us low. Fast as we can go."</p><p>"Aye, ma'am."</p><p>Without another look, Morgan moved back into the blood tray. The back ramp stayed open, and the bay machine gun was held in two massive armored hands as the Chief took up position. He was as ready to fight as she was. Then again, when were they not ready?</p><p>Standing ready at the bay door herself, she listened to general comms traffic as they closed on <em>Infinity</em>. The Pelican remained in motion, rolling and jinking subtly as it cut through the air rather than a fast, straight flight path. Hocus had been the subject of too much ground fire to count, and she knew the ropes when it came to getting in and out of the hottest zones.</p><p>Their flight was quick, seeming to pass by in a flash as the Pelican dropped into a clearing and went into a canyon filled with debris and shadow. Touching down, the two Spartans were on the ground and maneuvering, weapons up. Hocus vacated the area quickly, returning for the rest that had been left behind by the sudden emergency.</p><p>A squad of other IVs were fighting in the area, stationed there at an entrance into the ship to prevent any contacts from entering if they could. Morgan joined the overall battle net again, hearing one of the Spartans speaking.</p><p>"<em>-Ground teams, be advised. Commander Bailey and the Master Chief are on the field. Advancing."</em></p><p>IFF tags identified the team as a group of dark green colored Spartans, Fireteam Shamrock. The Master Chief had left her side, already heading for the Scorpion. He was quick to take the big toys for himself, it seemed.</p><p>"Shamrock, embedding with you. Get me into the ship."</p><p>Shamrock's leader, Spartan Darnell Morris, immediately responded in the affirmative, his deep voice ordering his Spartans to take point and keep enemy infantry forces away from the tank to let its cannon work without worrying about boarders.</p><p>A couple of Warthogs, one of them a gauss, were waiting as well, and the Spartans hopped aboard with Morgan taking the gauss for herself. They would ride as the Scorpion's escort, deal with what they could. Until then, they were still a few hundred meters from <em>Infinity</em>'s hangars, and would need to be fast.</p><p>In her ear, the main comms net for the ship was still going, with Monsoon giving out orders and status updates as needed. She had likely split herself into dozens of fragments, allowing her to keep eyes and ears on all Spartan fireteams, leading them directly and ensuring they were put to work in the best way. Morgan was more than happy to let her keep doing it while she was on the field.</p><p>Chaingun fire, the crack of a guass cannon, and the roar of the Scorpion's smoothbore cannon were constant sounds alongside Shamrock's battlefield comms, and they closed on the ship without any major problems while Morgan leapt from the back and ran towards the controls to a cargo elevator, reaching the controls just as the Scorpion rolled onboard, treads creaking in protest with every movement they made.</p><p>Slapping at the controls, she tried to force it to go up, find an override, <em>something</em>. Cursing, she called for Monsoon. "Monsoon, we're at an elevator, hangar two dash one niner. Requesting assist."</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma'am. Please keep the area clear of hostiles while the elevator ascends."</em></p><p>The elevator jolted and her knees flexed as it went up, the tank rumbling quietly and the turret swiveling in increments, always looking for another enemy to paste. Entering the ship, the use of the main gun would be restricted, but the coaxial MG would be free fire on anything that wasn't a Human.</p><p>When they came to the top of the elevator shaft, the Scorpion was quick to open up, and Morgan saw only a moment later that UNSC forces were being engaged not only by the Covenant and new Promethean forces, but a Hunter pair was active and firing their fuel rod guns with impunity, rounds pinging off of their heavy armor until the Scorpion came into play.</p><p>Immediately, Morgan was in motion. "Get off the elevator! The tank's a target!" She moved off of the elevator, taking cover and watching as the Hunters engaged the Scorpion, the coaxial MG opening up and putting down a withering barrage of fire on the troops that were more vulnerable. The Chief would clear the way to the Hunters, and Morgan started to broadcast on her helmet's speakers. "Focus down the small troops, close with the Hunters, take them down before they rip the tank apart!"</p><p>Marines and Spartans alike responded with a fusillade that put bullets into things both organic and otherwise. Grunts and Jackals fell, ripped apart by jacketed rounds. Elites took fire to their shields and dove for cover, some not making it before their shields popped and their bodies followed behind. Promethean forces weathered the storm better, heavy armor managing to tank some of the shots that came in on them and returning fire without seeming to worry about cover.</p><p>But none of them were able to spare much fire on Morgan while the blue armored Spartan ripped a grenade from her belt and sidearmed it at the Hunters. One saw it coming and raised its shield, the grenade bouncing off and exploding harmlessly in the air, shrapnel from the detonation pinging off of the floor and nearest wall of the hangar. It didn't matter. She hurled another one, never slowing or stopping in her advance as another pair of Spartans from Shamrock realized what she was doing.</p><p>They were quick to mimic her tactics, the second Hunter trying to cover behind its shield as well, but they were both exposed either to one of the advance forces, the Marines still engaging other forces, or the Scorpion in the back flinging lead like it was going out of style.</p><p>One of the Hunters finally took some hits to its unprotected sections, roaring in pain as orange gore fell to the floor in a nasty splatter. It repositioned, backing away with its bond brother.</p><p>Morgan wouldn't let them get far, and rather than skirt the side of the battlefield, she pushed off hard, and sprinted down the center, her shotgun held in shifting arms as she closed the distance faster than the Hunters had expected.</p><p>One raised its shield up and readied itself to bring it down, but a heavy barrage of fire from the Scorpion was already on target, the tracers giving plenty of evidence as to why the Hunter was being torn apart in front of her, until it had been hit enough that it simply sloughed apart, the upper half falling to the floor. She pushed past it, her shotgun coming up as she saw the other Hunter turn in slow motion, its shield starting to swing towards her rather than arcing from the top or bottom.</p><p>She dropped to the ground, her armor giving off sparks as she slid across the steel decking, lowering herself even further as she did. The shotgun pointed up at an angle, and she felt like she locked eyes with the Hunter that watched as it struggled to bring the shield back around, and pulled the trigger.</p><p>The cone of pellets was more than enough to blow out a massive amount of the orange eels that made up the big Covenant species, and it rained back down on her as she slid between heavily armored legs and out the other side. It, too, fell like its brother had, and she was on the offensive again, attacking what remained from behind, before the hangar fell silent from all but the sound of spent shell casings being kicked around, status callouts, and a warbling alarm.</p><p>There was no time to stop and breathe, to let things settle in. Spartans were always moving forward, leading the way, breaking through until either the enemy had stopped breathing, or the Spartans, and too many times had the latter happened.</p><p>Shamrock was quick to follow as Morgan ordered them together, and the Master Chief abandoned the Scorpion, closing the gap and rejoining her as they moved out of the hangar, further towards the bow. Morgan's comms opened up again, Del Rio's voice filtering through.</p><p>"<em>Commander, I'm told that a legend has come back to join us. We'll need his skills to break this assault."</em></p><p>She didn't slow her stride, weapon up, passing through split doors as the ship swallowed her whole once again. "Status?"</p><p>"<em>The satellite outside is attempting to access the ship's mainframe. It's already got a connection, along the port side, not far from your entry point. Quickest way there will be through the maintenance causeways. Mantis support has been authorized in mech bay six. Send the Master Chief there. Your job is to break the siege on the bridge section. We're holding them off, but barely, and we've had multiple Spartan casualties."</em></p><p>She cursed, frowning as she carried on. "Understood. I'm on my way."</p><p>"<em>Make it quick. We've retreated to another section, but they're attempting to break through now. Monsoon estimates five minutes, maybe, before they make it through the doors.</em>"</p><p>She cut the channel. There was no need for further information. The survivors from Shamrock were with her, and she had to lead them to the bridge. They weren't too far now. Turning back to the Chief, she cut his orders for him. "We're splitting up, you're going external in a Mantis, manual reboot of the defensive batteries to drive whatever it is off. We'll cover the bridge. I can take Cortana and get her into the system, try and flush out whatever is inside from the breach point."</p><p>The Master Chief seemed to almost hesitate, something she'd rarely ever seen from the big Spartan, and her frown deepened.</p><p>"Chief?" She didn't have much time. Holding her hand out, she waited for the chip, but every second was precious now. He shook his head and turned away.</p><p>"Negative. I'll insert her into the system closer to the contact location where it's scanning." His response was quick, and he turned his back to her, setting off into the maintenance corridor that would lead to the Mantis bay, and she grimaced, knowing there was no use in pursuing.</p><p>"Alright, Shamrock, we need to move fast, or the bridge crew is toast."</p><p>"Yes ma'am," Morris answered.</p><p>The walls of the <em>Infinity</em> passed by in a blur, the group of Spartans passing by multiple conflicts that had Marines and other Spartan forces battling scattered Prometheans and Covenant forces, slowly but surely pushing them back according to an overlay of the ship that showed thinning conflict zones as the ship's contingent pushed the invaders out, either through a forced retreat or ensuring they were all dead. More and more lights winked off as friendly forces managed to break out and support other zones, the enemy casualties skyrocketing as the ship was cleared.</p><p>But there was a heavy enemy presence at the front of the ship, and friendly forces had been unable to properly break through, despite their best efforts, and several Spartans had been wounded a the least enough to take them out of action. She had no idea how many had been killed so far, and she didn't want to until all the dust had settled. Every Spartan, and every Marine that was lost to combat on this world was another hole in their defensive strength. Until they could get out of here, they were limited to whatever was on hand, and after enough punishment, even a ship as large as the <em>Infinity</em> would start to feel the strain.</p><p>Corridors and decks across the ship were at a standstill leading to the bridge, and Morgan closed on a line that was loaded with Marines exchanging fire with Covenant forces at the end of the hall, likely a rearguard for heavy Promethean vanguards. Morgan's shotgun was up as she charged into a crossfire, her first round blasting a Grunt off of its feet and sent it slamming into the deck. An Elite, stripped of the heavy armor that the Covenant had worn during the war, was quick to close the gap, and she whipped around to face it before several rounds came in from one of Shamrock's gunners, piercing the shields and painting the walls with whatever the Elite had in its skull.</p><p>The Marines moved along in the trail of devastation led by Shamrock and Morgan, keeping their rear covered to allow the Spartans to go wild on anything to the front. Morgan was their point man, something she hadn't been since Reach. She had always worked alone before Noble, and then was more or less alone again during the final months of the war until the Chief had come back onto the field.</p><p>Working with a team again, it was nice, in a way. She could rely on others, not having to constantly keep one eye on her sights and one on her motion tracker. Focusing purely on the fight at hand led to devastating results with a veteran Spartan able to run free on targets. The Marines were bearing witness to it now, unable to stop and shoot with the frenetic pace that the Spartans kept up, firing on the move and defining maneuver warfare in the modern age.</p><p>A spearhead of green and a tip of blue led the group to the bridge, Covenant forces fading more and more until only Prometheans stood guard over the way to the bridge and its occupants. They all fell to the roar of Morgan's shotgun, the crack of Shamrock's rifles and machine guns, and the heavy boots that carried them through. Marine corpses were on either side of the decks, run through and cut to pieces by swords, blown to bits by the heavy rifles, sometimes even just crumpled from a bludgeoning hit. Plasma damage, bullet impact holes, whatever the Promethean weapons did, all increased as they pushed forward.</p><p>It had been a hard fight, but the Marines had held as long as they could. She counted three Spartans left in the halls, their armor damaged and their bodies limp from the fight that had brought them down. Neither Shamrock nor Morgan kept count. Only one set of numbers mattered right now, and it was the remaining ammunition they had packed onto them.</p><p>The bridge doors came into sight, and Morgan watched as a Promethean far larger than the others of its kind turned to look at her, twin rifles in each hand, with an additional pair of large cannons poking from sections of its back. It looked less like the Prometheans they had seen, and more like a crab shell with two legs beneath it. Armor split open in the dead center of its chest where the glowing eyes stared holes in the Spartans, and a trio of bright orange Human shaped skulls screeched at her before the armor closed back around them.</p><p>One of the cannons on its shoulder roared loudly, a massive red ball of energy pushing out of the barrel and moving towards them. It was slow, slower than any bullet, or even plasma fire, but when it impacted, it was devastating. One of the rounds hit a downed Spartan, one of the dead guards, as Shamrock tried to get away. The body, armor and all, disappeared in a bright red flash, and Morgan felt her stomach tighten.</p><p>Another shot like that would be able to kill any one of them. Trying to push forward and dodge around the shots only meant that they would be open to the rifles. Trying to sit here and wither it down would expose them to more of the heavy cannon fire.</p><p>To her right, a cylinder spun through the air, moving at a higher speed than she had expected. They didn't have rockets or heavy AT, but they did have grenades, and one of them spun through the air until it bounced off of the Promethean Crab's armor, detonating and sending shrapnel pinging off of the walls.</p><p>The massive enemy combatant wasn't damaged, the explosion having left scorch marks on the armor, but there were no pocks or holes, but Morgan had noticed it stumble back on the twin legs. They were large, more than capable of carrying the Promethean, but possibly unstable.</p><p>She had an idea. "More! Hit the bastard again, everything you've got!"</p><p>More grenades came flying in at her command, all having the same effect. There were no damaging hits, but the thing was kept off balance, struggling to keep its large bulk on target, and Morgan saw her opening.</p><p>Pushing out of her cover, she sprinted forward, and heard the clamor of boots behind her. Shamrock was led by someone that had the same keen eyes as the Commander, and had come to the same conclusion. They would get in close while it was off balance and deal with it like barbarians. After all, a Spartan was just a barbarian with an advanced cudgel and tougher skin.</p><p>The cannons started to line back up a shot as rifle fire came in from the crab, inaccurate and rapid. Morgan was able to dodge most of it without losing speed, but the rest of Shamrock would have trouble. There was only so much room to dodge and move without tripping each other or taking a hit.</p><p>Her shields dropped with each near miss, until she heard the warbling in her ears as the shields went to critical levels, heat passing through her armor to the skin beneath. She was too close to stop now, and there was no cover anyway. Green eyes tracked the direction all four barrels were pointing, and she put on a burst of speed. The remaining ten meters were gone in a flash, and she threw the shotgun in her hands to the side, dropping her heavily armored shoulder and tucking her head in as one of the shoulder cannons went off again.</p><p>Her shoulder impacted just as she heard armor crunching against armor, the loud click followed by a dull thump as the weapon fired, and her world spun. The crab had been knocked down onto its back, and Shamrock had dog piled it almost as soon as they had gotten in range. The shot that had been taken as the crab fell had impacted against the ceiling, dropping already damaged shields. Electricity arced over all of the Spartans, none of them shielded anymore as they fought the crab with fists and boots.</p><p>Heavy armor could protect against distant rifle fire and explosions just fine, but when an adrenaline filled squad of Spartans hit the crab like a freight train, they had set to work on tearing it apart piece by piece.</p><p>Literally.</p><p>Shamrock had ripped off both arms, straining against the metal that made the creature up, and the twin cannons on its shoulders were moving on gimbals, trying desperately to get a target, but it was unable. A synthetic screech went up, and Morgan felt herself going weightless.</p><p>"Get off! Get the hell off!" Her orders went up just in time, and she felt the crab starting to leave the area through its odd teleportation system. Shamrock bailed off of it like they had finally captured a rampaging bull. Morgan was last, and she nearly didn't make it, falling to the ground hard after trying to push off. Her boots left the downed crab, but with it disappearing under her a half an instant later, she barely moved, and it disappeared as she fell to the ground, grunting.</p><p>Shamrock fanned out, the squad leader moving for the bridge door that had been almost white hot. Several spots had been hit by rifle fire, and the cannons on that things shoulders had been doing a number on the reinforced doors that covered the bridge. Slapping the communications panel next to the door, Morris called out.</p><p>"Friendlies! Bridge secured!"</p><p>The door split open, struggling to fit inside of its slot after having been pelted with fire and deformed by heat. Another minute, or even less, and the crab would have annihilated the bridge.</p><p>Morgan rose to her feet, feeling the weight of the battle and its actions coming down on her shoulders. She was next in, and Shamrock's remaining Spartans peeled back into the bridge room, shutting the door and staying on it, just in case anything else came.</p><p>Del Rio's eyes met hers through her visor as he came up from behind the holo table, a magnum clutched tightly in his hands. It was a textbook stance, one learned from time on a range, rather than time in a trench. It lowered. "Commander, nice of you to finally join us."</p><p>She nodded. "Sir. We've managed to clear plenty of hostiles from the area. Hopefully it takes the pressure off the rest of the ship."</p><p>Del Rio was about to respond when Monsoon appeared on the holotable. "<em>Sir, my sensors indicate the unknown alien forces are leaving the ship. Covenant forces are attempting to disengage as well, but lack the teleporting capabilities of the others. Enemy air forces are being destroyed as we speak by ship defenses."</em></p><p>"And the satellite?" He asked, glaring down at her with that scowl of his.</p><p>"<em>It has been forced away as well by the combined efforts of the Master Chief and other Mantis personnel. I estimate we have half an hour before the ship is cleared, but as of right now, the danger has largely passed, sir."</em></p><p>The older officer nodded slowly, finally holstering his weapon. "Good." Turning back to Morgan, he pointed to her. "Commander, remain here. Spartans, the rest of you return to clearing the ship."</p><p>Shamrock was quick to leave, none of them wanting to remain under Del Rio's gaze any longer than they had to. Morgan turned to watch them leave, one of them returning after a moment and tossing her the discarded shotgun with a sketched salute.</p><p>A hint of a smile as she racked the slide and reloaded it, before clipping it to her armor's back plate. Looking back to Del Rio, she waited for his orders.</p><p>He was slow to give them, staring at the holotable and the overlay of the ship, slowly returning to a full blue shape. Several minutes passed before he spoke again. "Commander, do you have the data on the gravity well location?"</p><p>She nodded, pulling the data chip from her helmet that Wright had given her. Doubling as both an AI storage chip and one that could pull data from consoles both Covenant and Human, and apparently Forerunner, hackers and cyberwarfare experts could fill it with targeted data rather than large dumps. She had lucked out with Wright's expertise. "Yes, sir."</p><p>He took it and slotted it into the holotable, Monsoon immediately latching onto it and setting it up to show what the area looked like, structures, and more. Del Rio was formulating a plan, one that would be their next course of action.</p><p>Finally, he nodded again, satisfied. "Monsoon, how long until we can regain full power and get back into the air?"</p><p>"<em>Estimating…</em><em> Thirty Two hours, Captain."</em></p><p>Del Rio cursed, his hands tightening into fists. "The longer we're here, the more likely we get attacked again. Bring all weapons online first, then shields. Have all combat forces come to REDCON 1, roving patrols constantly. Place heavy weapons throughout the ship, and entrench in chokepoints with emplaced weapons teams, load armor piercing ammunition to deal with the big armored enemy types. Engineers and mechanics stick with a squad or two of Marines on guard, and keep a CAP flight up just in case more air forces try to obtain a beachhead. Seal all hangars and elevators other wise. We're gonna be here for too long, and I don't want a repeat of what just happened."</p><p>Turning back to Morgan, he made her the subject of his scowl. "Commander, gather your Spartans, re-arm, and stay appraised. Once your team has returned, keep them close. You'll be leading the charge on the gravity well generator when it comes time to happen. More details to follow. Until then, do what you need to to be ready. You're dismissed."</p><p>She nodded, taking her orders. "Yes sir." Anything to be out from under that look. She left the bridge shortly after, returning to S Deck and finding that several Spartans were being treated for injuries by medics. Sarah Palmer was near the large overhanging observation platform, her helmet off as one of her team members treated a savage wound that led from her temple nearly to her jaw. Blood was pooled in a puddle on the deck, but it had stopped gushing with the application of biofoam and a bandage.</p><p>Palmer looked up at Morgan. "Ma'am. What are your orders?"</p><p>Morgan pulled her helmet off, feeling the recycled air of the armor giving way to the ship's recycled air, only marginally better in her opinion. "Rearm, repair, lick your wounds. We got slapped, and not with an open palm. We caught the back of whatever hand came at us. I've directly encountered multiple Spartans KIA. Have commanders update their rosters and recover their bodies when able." She saw Palmer grimace, not at the pain in the wound, but at the loss of Spartans. It was never good to lose a comrade, but the fact that Spartans had been cut down, it didn't bode well for an extended campaign if it came down to it.</p><p>A nod as Palmer listened, and Morgan went on. "Gravity well generator keeping us in this place has been spotted, we're planning to take it out. Crown will be moving with whatever else Del Rio decides to give us, and we'll drop it and then get the hell out of here. Still plenty we don't know here, so you and the others will be getting your information on the fly. So, at this point, plan for anything and everything. Stay flexible. Otherwise…" Morgan shrugged, and Palmer watched her. "Just stay ready to move at a moment's notice. Weapons and armor on at all times."</p><p>Palmer licked her lips, and nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. I'll pass the information on. We'll be ready when you need us."</p><p>Morgan gave a nod, but internally sighed with relief. Wherever things took them now, she had no idea, but she didn't like it, and her mind once again wandered back to the Chief and Cortana as she left S Deck, moving to the Spartan bridge to stay close to the bridge and ready for anything.</p><p>Something about them had changed since she'd last seen them, and it wasn't for the better.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Become human</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Author's note: Shorter than usual chapter, but I think it's better to be shortened, a nice little interlude to the combat that we usually see. I hope you guys like it, and thanks for your continued support</strong>
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  <strong>To Qrs-jg: Once again, you're on the money. Palmer was a corporal before becoming a Spartan. Definitely a good line soldier or small team member/leader, but jumping all the way up to Infinity command? That was a bit of a stretch to me too. I'm pleased that you liked my interpretation of Del Rio! I thought he was used badly. The Navy wanted him in place because he would prioritize the ship, and he did that, but he failed to adapt as a commander and realize the Didact's threat was incredibly massive and he should have tried harder to prevent it, or better, to support the Master Chief in some way before running. Lastly, the Strident frigates <em>might</em> be in the ship, but you never see them in 4 until possibly the last mission, so I'm going off of the assumption the Stridents were added in the refit that Infinity got the year after 4. Thanks for your review!</strong>
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  <em>Could you sacrifice me to complete your mission? Could you watch me die?</em>
</p><hr/><p>32 hours passed slowly, with <em>Infinity</em> resting on her belly in the middle of the jungle that she had come down in. The ship was more than visible, given her large bulk, rising out of the trench that she had carved into the surface. It was as if a black monument had been erected, but there was nobody to worship it or remember it when it was still bristling with anger at having been invaded and damaged.</p><p>Turrets still spun rapidly, checking fire zones to both ensure they would be up and waiting in case of another attack. Missile bay doors remained closed, but ready to pop open and belch out their contents. Marine fireteams in Warthog convoys were scattered on the ground around the ship, while Pelicans sat high overhead, armed with air-to-air and air-to-ground attack munitions. They had been set up in rotations, a group of them up in the air at all times, before returning to refuel and switch crews. Surge operations that remained in a constant cycle of ships was what a carrier like <em>Infinity</em> was designed for, after all.</p><p>Mechanics and engineers were all over the ship, focusing on bringing her back online and repairing any damage that had been brought to her corridors. The tertiary reactor was functioning at full capacity now, and could power most things, but the secondary and primary would need to be functioning to power shields, weapons, and propulsion all at once, much less get her off the ground. Shield banks had been restored and functioned properly, but there was no real use in bringing them online and straining the tertiary reactor again. Weapons were what got the lion's share of the energy flowing through her veins.</p><p>Other divisions of maintenance personnel, assigned to each of the wings and repair bays for the ground and air units, were just as hard at work. Plenty of material and vehicles had been damaged or outright destroyed in the crash. Warthogs and Pelicans were being repaired after the fall, some being out of action entirely and cannibalized for spare parts that were checked over by techs before being stored for last ditch repair efforts. Nobody wanted a hand-me-down part that was part of something that had been stressed already. That was just asking for trouble.</p><p>Even the massive M510 Mammoth ultra-heavy siegebreakers were being checked over and prepped for combat. Crews were looking over the interior, using and reusing every bell and whistle to make sure they were ready to storm out of the ship and onto the surface to conduct heavy extended operations. They were a modern take on the super heavy land battleship concept that had been eyeballed throughout the 20th century and beyond. A miniature MAC cannon capable of holing anything up to a Covenant picket ship or, if the crew was lucky, a frigate, should it get too close and too careless. Heavy armor was rated to take even shelling by Wraiths and emplaced weapons. The only true worry a Mammoth had was boarders, but UNSC service personnel would hold that line and slam the door in the face of anyone who didn't think about wiping their feet before entering the vehicle's interior.</p><p>Morgan, standing with arms crossed and her helmet hooked to her belt, watched as one of the Mammoths rumbled to life loudly, another test starting up under the watchful eyes of mechanics attached to one of the Marine battalions onboard. On the opposite side of the huge hangar bay, Pelicans were being worked on, her sharp ears picking out the sounds of distant impact drills and shouts, as well as a portable speaker blaring music a little too loud.</p><p>But who was she to tell them to turn it down? The crews all worked without issues, and all they had to do was ask the others to lower the volume. Otherwise, no other group was close enough for it to matter. They could all use some method or another to try and keep themselves focused on their tasks. Everybody on the ship could still smell the spent gunpowder and, in the corridors further in the ship that had concentrated the smells, dried blood and remnants of death.</p><p>97 Marines, 21 Sailors, and Six Spartans had been killed in the attack on <em>Infinity</em>. Most of the Sailors had been killed in the crash, but some had fallen in battle, unlucky enough to be caught by invading forces. The Marines had been a more even split between the downed birds from the advance recon element, and being shot in the halls of the ship.</p><p>The six Spartans, however, had all fallen in defense of the ship's interior. The two bridge guardians had been killed late in the fight by the massive Promethean crab, which had been dubbed a Leviathan, a larger variant of the Knights that doubled both as a command unit and a heavy weapons platform. One member of Fireteam Strider had been killed in the initial attack, one of Fireteam Oasis' members had gone down after a direct hit from the fuel rod cannon of a Hunter in one of the hangar bays further towards the stern, and the last two had both been part of Fireteam Anvil, overwhelmed by a suicide squad of Grunts that had stormed them to clear the way towards the bridge.</p><p>She had only just finished updating her roster and rolling the teams that had lost members together to prevent the Spartan corps from having understrength units. It bothered her, having finished extra parts of the job. She had never had to write a letter to a family, or to try and put into words what it meant to lose somebody she'd only seen in passing.</p><p>Her letter writing had originally been truthful, but cold in how it came off. She had no idea who the Spartan was, and outside of writing how they'd died and the reason for it, there was nothing more to say. Monsoon had interjected, albeit indirectly, calling for Castille to enter her commander's office.</p><p>Morgan had been surprised, asking what she could help her with, and Castille had moved closer as she brought up Monsoon's summons, frowning at the way Morgan was writing letters.</p><p>The former medic's response to reading one of them was disapproving, and looked over at her. Blue eyes met green, and Castille gestured to the screen.</p><p>"<em>Commander, you need to be more compassionate with these, more sympathetic. You've los</em><em>t</em><em> people, right?"</em></p><p>Morgan had nodded. Everybody had. Nobody had come out of the Great War unscathed.</p><p>"<em>Then you know how it feels. It hurts, it never goes away, but in the beginning, when you get told about it… it's hell."</em></p><p>She knew that. She knew how much it had hurt, to watch Noble go down one by one and watch Reach disappear under the pillars of glassing beams. A swallow, another nod. "<em>What would you have me do? Lie?"</em></p><p>Castille had been slow to respond to that, the pale woman's refined face contorting in a thoughtful expression that didn't fit on such a massive armored body. "<em>No, ma'am. I'm just saying that… instead of being completely honest, you sort of… stretch the truth a little bit."</em></p><p>"<em>But what does that solve? Wouldn't they want to know how their loved one died?"</em></p><p>Castille shook her head, pursing her lips. "<em>That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that it might be a better idea to be softer, and tell the truth that doesn't detail how they went down or what caused it </em><em>directly</em><em>."</em></p><p>Morgan had still been confused on the purpose of it, and her medically inclined Spartan team mate had decided to show her. A few minutes passed, a letter had been typed out, a moment where Morgan had realized that even now, years later and a taste of civilian life, hadn't done much at all to change her outlook from so many years of Marines dying on her, or even Noble's loss.</p><p>She had written the rest of them, with Castille giving her time in private before coming back to look over them and assure the Spartan III that she had gotten it right, however hard it may have been to find what was truly right and wrong in such a matter. The families that were informed of the loss of their loved ones by those letters would never see a right or a wrong, and the process had banged it into Morgan's head.</p><p>The entire time, Morgan's thoughts had gone back to hearing about the loss of Beta Company, and how she had felt nothing but surprise at the loss of hundreds of Spartans on a suicide mission. It had grown over time, with each loss of Noble. Jorge disappearing into the eleven dimensions of Slipspace with the super carrier over Reach. Kat's life being snuffed out in an instant because of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Carter's sacrifice to get them to the shipbreaking yards, already having been on borrowed time after vacating Sword Base's ruins. Emile, volunteering to stay behind and give the <em>Autumn</em> a way out, give <em>her</em> a way out.</p><p>
  <em>Six, time for you to leave. Get the package to the pad, and get the hell off this planet. I've got your back.</em>
</p><p>Emile's orders to her had been filled with finality, and that grinning skull filled her mind's eye, as well as another thought.</p><p>The night before Greer had shown up at her house, she'd had another nightmare, one that had come for no reason and without warning. She had stared back into the face of another helmet, a Mark V that looked just like hers, and it had been pierced through the visor. Blackness had been all that she saw at first, before a flash of lightning revealed the eye within had been hers.</p><p>A dream, something that had been in the back of her mind since the planet went dark, disappearing behind her as she escaped against all odds. She was supposed to die on Reach, to be left behind and fight until she ran out of ammo, ran out of shields, ran out of the very life that filled her veins. In another world, Morgan-B312 had fallen with the rest of Noble, had been buried under the glassing beams and left like all the other ghosts that filled the ruins of Aszod's shipbreaking yard.</p><p>Another time.</p><p>Another place.</p><p>Another plaque to put on that statue that filled her thoughts again for the first time in a long time.</p><p>"Commander?"</p><p>A voice broke her from her reverie, one she'd always remember, always pick out in a crowd, always look for when the lights went out and the darkness returned.</p><p>Her wife stood in front of her, and even as Morgan's eyes refocused, she watched her wife already in the midst of dismissing the other pilot that had been with her. Hocus knew that look in the Spartan's eyes, sharp as ever but still looking clouded, glazed over, lost. She had seen it many times before.</p><p>They were alone now, albeit still standing in the open. They weren't far from the hangar wall and one of the doors that would lead further into the ship. Anybody could come through and they would be within arm's reach again.</p><p>Morgan caught her wife's eyes, blinking once. "Need something?" She asked, feigning ignorance.</p><p>Hocus – Amber – frowned at the bigger woman. "Some privacy, for one."</p><p>Morgan's face tightened slightly. She had been found out almost immediately. "Fair enough. Professionally or otherwise?"</p><p>"Otherwise. My bird's being checked over and my rotation is ending. We have plenty of time."</p><p>Morgan licked her lips, before nodding at her. "Wait one." Slipping her helmet back on, she reconnected to the ship's network. "Monsoon."</p><p>The AI responded in her helmet immediately, a small picture of her face appearing in Morgan's HUD. "<em>Yes, Commander?"</em></p><p>"I'll be going to my quarters for a time. Anything happens, you can reach me on the TACPAD. August has command of Crown until I return. Otherwise, I'll be needing some privacy."</p><p>"<em>Yes, Commander."</em></p><p>She thought for a moment as she slipped the helmet back off and onto her hip. The AI was a very nice point of contact, someone that she enjoyed having around, but admittedly, they rarely interacted. It was like the relationship with DOT back during her stint with Noble.</p><p>Morgan looked back to her wife, jerking her head to the door. "You have my attention then."</p><p>Amber jerked her head to the door as well. "Lead the way, <em>Commander</em>."</p><p>Morgan narrowed her eyes, and took a breath but nodded, and turned to the lead the way. Neither would speak of things until they entered their quarters.</p><p>It wasn't exactly a secret that they were together, a vast majority of the people posted to <em>Infinity</em> had their spouses stationed onboard, but few were posted together, and even fewer were Spartans. Anybody who looked at the ship's roster could come to the conclusion given their last names, but it wasn't the first conclusion people would make unless they knew the berthing situation. Neither got much time to speak to the other, and there weren't many in the halls that could see them enter their quarters at the same time. As far as she knew, almost nobody in the Spartan detachment knew of it, save for her fireteam, and that was only because Castille was in the know about it. It didn't matter whether people knew it or not, in the end. Neither talked about it was all.</p><p>The door opened for the two women, and they stepped inside before it closed again, sealing them in alone. Monsoon would have already excused herself. There was no need for her to snoop, and she was far more willing to keep to herself, unlike Cortana.</p><p>Gesturing to the couch, Morgan moved to one of the reinforced chairs she had pulled into the room for when she was in armor. It was rare, but better to have it than not. Her helmet came off, held in two armored hands. "Now, what was it that made you want privacy?"</p><p>Amber sat down across from her, setting her flight helmet on her lap. "Was gonna say hi and keep moving, but you had that look about you again."</p><p>Morgan raised her eyebrow. "Which one?"</p><p>"You know the one. The one where you get lost in that brain of yours again."</p><p>Morgan wanted to lie, to say no, to push it all back down. They had been in heavy contact less than a day ago, with enemy forces not just inside their ship, but their home. They were essentially stranded inside of a hostile planetoid, with no way home yet, and no true indication of whether or not they would even get off the ground. It was still less than optimistic. Things were heating up quickly, and she was going back to the thought process where her mind and the contents became non-essential, became distractions that could get her killed.</p><p>If she had to deal with it, it could wait, couldn't it? Morgan's eyes locked onto her wife again, and she realized it couldn't. The pilot had been an unstoppable force over the years. It had been tough at first, with Morgan struggling to let her in, struggling to find the words, to work them out of her rather than letting those thoughts fester even longer.</p><p>"It's different now."</p><p>"Different how?" Her wife had her hands in her lap, resting on the helmet, rather than crossed with her arms. Her voice was low, not containing any hint of anger or exasperation. She'd always been a calm listener. Classified information on the Spartan programs had come to light in the years after the war, and Morgan had opened up about her past. There was still plenty she didn't know, and Amber had always tried to remain patient and open minded, especially in the face of a woman that had abandoned everything at a young age to become a war machine.</p><p>"It was one thing to lose people I knew, cared about. It hurt. It still hurts. Losing others I didn't know wasn't as much of a hit. I could just… keep moving, forget about them. Now, I'm writing these letters to families about these people I barely got to know since coming aboard and it feels… <em>wrong</em> to write these letters the way I am, and I can't just forget about them now."</p><p>"Hate to say it, babe, but it never gets any easier." Amber's voice was level, and while Morgan could tell there was sympathy in it, her wife had never lied to her and stretched the truth.</p><p>"I know that well enough by now, but I never expected this." Morgan fidgeted in her seat, looking down at the deck.</p><p>"Nobody ever does. War is more than just shooting back and forth, and the military as well. It's fifty percent sitting around, bored out of your mind, forty percent getting told to do meaningless bullshit by someone because reasons and then having to do it despite it all, nine percent drinking and sleeping wherever you can, and then the last half percent is a mixture between training and being neck deep in the shit." She shrugged, her own eyes seemed to tear away. "For people like us, that aren't just grunts being ordered around, you have to slide a new block of suck into it. Dealing with subordinates, their troubles, their wants and needs, keeping them happy, and lastly, dealing with the fallout when they die."</p><p>Morgan looked back up, but the brown eyes of the other woman didn't meet hers. "Well, I shouldn't say <em>dealing</em> with it. That makes it sound like a hassle, and honestly? It kinda is, but it's part of the job." Another shrug.</p><p>The Spartan's frown grew deeper. "We've never had to deal with that. Spartans die and that's the end of it. Nobody was supposed to remember us except the clerks who typed MIA in our files, our team mates if we had them, and… that was it. Nobody is left as far as I'm aware that remembers Noble past the statue, the videos that were taken on Reach, whatever else."</p><p>"That's all you can do sometimes. You keep their tags, don't you? I've seen them on you almost every time I've seen you out of armor since we met."</p><p>Morgan reached up to her chest plate, as if she could feel the necklace that her own dog tags, and that of Jorge and Emile, hung on. She took her wedding ring off more than she took those tags off. A silent nod, and Amber went on.</p><p>"You're almost lucky, in a way. None of you had to worry too much about what happened after you kicked the bucket. Just keep going and hope you either live long enough to eventually forget, or you die and don't worry about it anymore."</p><p>Despite herself, Morgan chuckled, and Amber looked puzzled. "That's the thinking I had in the end, that either we finish the war and I get to take a break finally, or I die, and it's not my problem after that."</p><p>Amber swallowed, before nodding again. "Yeah, that's about the gist of it, ain't it? Speaking of dead Spartans, what about your friend? Big Green."</p><p>Morgan's smile, however shallow, disappeared. "He's… here. I don't know if he's back, but he's here."</p><p>"You mean he's changed since you last saw him."</p><p>"Figure five years on ice does that to someone, especially when they lock themselves away expecting to never be found again. I haven't gotten to talk to him yet, or Cortana. She's been kept in his armor, and he's been kept in meetings with either Lasky or Del Rio. Other than that, any sleep or food he's gotten, he's probably done it all alone. But something else is bothering me."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Cortana. Something seems wrong with her. She was always cool and collected, except for the end. She seemed almost broken when we found her again, but now she seems to be going off the rails. You ever seen an angry AI?" A shake of Amber's head. "Me neither, until now. Cortana had some sort of… outburst. No idea why."</p><p>"You tell anyone about it?"</p><p>"Not yet. I need to find out for myself, but he's been busy so damn much that I can't get close. Whatever mission is going on to destroy the generator for the gravity well, he'll be going, and so will I."</p><p>Amber's face darkened slightly. "You took this so you could get out of the field but stay in and remember it all. You didn't take it to go and kick in doors and ass alike."</p><p>"No, but I need to figure it out, and this might be the only real way to do it and see Cortana under another stressful situation. She might be able to control it normally, but stress might exacerbate it."</p><p>The smaller pilot sighed, her southern drawl sounding again as she locked eyes with her wife. "If that's what you think is best, then do it. Just be careful, yeah?"</p><p>Morgan nodded and stood up. Amber stood as well, closing the distance as her wife said those words again.</p><p>"I promise."</p><p>That got a bit of a smile from Amber, and her hand stretched up to Morgan's cheek, one of her thumbs brushing against the once deathly pale skin, moving an errant strand of black hair. "You really do know how to reassure a girl, don't'cha?"</p><p>"On occasion."</p><p>A chuckle from the shorter woman, and her hand moved to the back of Morgan's neck, meeting the tech suit rather than her wife's warm skin. Morgan was quick to get the hint, and leaned down to share a kiss with her wife for the first time in a month that wasn't rushed or given by two sleepy people. They held it for a few seconds, before Morgan pulled away, and Hocus went on. "There. Now I can rest a little easier."</p><p>"Sorry it isn't much, and under the circumstances that we have."</p><p>Amber tsked. "I knew what I was getting myself into all those years ago. You don't have to apologize to me."</p><p>Morgan let out a relaxed huff, one that left her nose as her mouth turned up into a smile. "Maybe not… but I'll make it up to you when this tour's done."</p><p>"Damn right, now get out there, figure out what you need to figure out, whatever. I'll be waiting for you."</p><p>"Hopefully not too long."</p><p>Morgan let her last words hang, and turned to the door. Her wife followed along behind her, and the two went separate directions. Morgan went left, towards S Deck, Amber went right, back towards the nearest chow hall. She would be coming back to sleep soon.</p><p>The Spartan continued to stew as she stepped onto S Deck a few minutes later, immediately moving up to the overwatch point that her commanders used as an office away from their dedicated offices. Crown was waiting for her, and she nodded to them when they looked up as she entered.</p><p>Castille was the first to come to her, a datapad in hand. "We managed to get the Master Chief's old armor off. Had him switch into the GEN2 variant, but he picked the Mark VI rather than something else. We had GEN1 parts on hand, but he refused." She shrugged. "Information on the old set is on the datapad. Medics looked him over too, didn't say it out loud, but they recommend a full psych workup."</p><p>Morgan took the datapad and started looking over it, frowning and meeting Castille's eyes when she heard the part about the psych workup. "Agreed, but we probably won't be able to get it done properly while we're here. Best I can figure, he'll lie and say he's fine."</p><p>"What makes you say that?"</p><p>"We're neck deep in shit right now and he knows something that the rest of us don't. I know him well enough to know that he'll do anything to stay in the fight and try and finish whatever this is."</p><p>Castille pursed her lips. "But there could be something wrong with him."</p><p>Morgan gave a sardonic chuckle, despite herself. "Something wrong with him? There's always been something wrong with the IIs and IIIs. We just hide it better to deal with the mission at hand. That was our entire upbringing: compartmentalize, win the fight, deal with it when the world wasn't coming down around you."</p><p>"That doesn't make it right."</p><p>"Every non-ONI doctor that's ever had an opinion on us has said the same thing. Doesn't change the way we operate, and it definitely won't change him."</p><p>She handed the datapad back after finishing her skimming. Armor had been totally wrecked. Shield system was barely holding up after a run in with something big out in the wild, especially with all the issues that had started to plague it during their fighting at the end of the war. She was almost surprised that it hadn't failed before now, or suffered any sort of small failures throughout that time that had cascaded into something more.</p><p>But Castille seemed to drop the subject, although Morgan didn't miss the sigh from the former medic. When all this was over, Morgan would force him into a psych workup if she had to, but until then, she could only support him. There was something far more important going on than his stress and problems, according to him, but it didn't really matter what she thought on it. Even if he was put out of the fight, they'd still have to figure out how to get out of here. She wasn't a stranger to fighting on a mind hanging on by its last thread.</p><p>Didn't mean she had to like it though.</p><p>She waited for a time, looking over several datapads on their status and making plans to keep them ready to go whenever the ship got back into the air. Eventually, she saw him. The big olive colored armor was moving from the bridge further towards the stern, likely for his own berthing. His old armor had been discarded, damaged all to hell by the end of the war and with several deep pits in it, from the pictures that had been in the datapad she had looked over. Now, he was wearing the new model, one that looked significantly more angular and even different in plenty of ways. It almost deserved a new name.</p><p>She was quick to get down onto the deck and catch up with him. "Chief."</p><p>The helmet turned, and two golden visors met, reflecting each other, and not the people inside. His body turned around soon after, giving her his full attention. "Commander."</p><p>Morgan didn't say anything in return, gesturing towards an empty room nearby. He took the hint, leading the way and stepping inside before turning towards her as the door shut behind him.</p><p>"Been a while, John." Few said his name anymore, most of those that knew it personally either dead or thought he was dead, or were a high enough rank for it to be unprofessional.</p><p>"It has. What do you need from me, Commander?"</p><p>Her helmet unsealed with a hiss as she pulled it off and hooked it to her belt. "Morgan, Chief. I don't need the rank or the formalities. You and I fought together enough at the end that the rest of it doesn't matter. We're Spartans first."</p><p>He didn't respond for a moment, before he nodded. She went on. "What's going on? You've been with Lasky and Del Rio since you came aboard. Now you need to keep me updated too."</p><p>"A Forerunner Commander has been kept imprisoned in a stasis capsule for an undetermined amount of time. We were tricked into opening the capsule and now he's sworn revenge."</p><p>"Revenge?"</p><p>"<em>He hates Humans, for one."</em> Cortana's voice entered the conversation, sounding normal again, and Morgan frowned.</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"<em>He's looking to </em><em>finish what he apparently started who knows how many thousands of years ago. I couldn't find anything from what little time I had in the system, but safe to say, it's nothing good."</em></p><p>Her frown deepened. "So he's a top tier threat then. Have you brought this up with command?"</p><p>The Master Chief responded this time. "Of course. Their first priority is getting the ship into the air, but any further planning towards pursuing the Didact is secondary to that. I've started thinking of ways to go about it, but there are resources I need, support."</p><p>"Then you'll get it, I can promise you that. As soon as we get the ship into the air again, we can start tracking him down and ending him before this whole thing gets worse."</p><p>He nodded. "Thank you."</p><p>It was new, to hear the Master Chief thank her. It made her think for a moment, before she went on. "Short of anything else important, I have another question to ask, and I'd like to hear the answer from you, John."</p><p>He seemed to hesitate before he nodded. He knew what she was getting at. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was stony, but she doubted he would deny her the answer now, especially since there was no way out of it.</p><p>"What's wrong with Cortana?"</p><p>Cortana's voice came from the helmet speakers before he could respond. "<em>Morgan, I-"</em></p><p>"I asked <em>him</em>, Cortana." Morgan's voice was hard as she cut the AI off, and she kept her eyes locked onto the Chief's visor, burning holes through it as she crossed her arms. She knew she was looking at his eyes. He wouldn't look away from her.</p><p>The Master Chief – John – took a few moments before his words came again. "She's suffering from rampancy."</p><p>Her gut twisted into a knot, and she felt her mouth dry out. Cortana? Rampant? It was a death sentence for any AI in UNSC custody. The first signs of rampancy, regardless of how long they were into their service life. No AI was safe for it, not even Cortana. If she knew Del Rio, and she was sure she knew him well enough by now, she would be decommissioned the instant he got wind of her rampancy.</p><p>Her eyes broke from his, and she started to pace, her entire form tensing up as the Master Chief and Cortana followed her movements.</p><p>She heard his voice again. "If we can stop the Didact, get her back to Earth, back to <em>Halsey</em>, we can fix her. Halsey would surely know how to fix it."</p><p>He almost sounded like he was pleading with her, something that she had never thought she would hear from the big man that had been the bulwark that the Covenant had crashed against at the end of the war all those years ago, that protected Humanity like a flood gate with extinction being a rotten ocean that was being held back still today.</p><p>There was no response for a while, and her sensitive ears heard the slightest movement of armor scraping against armor, of the tech suit flexing with each movement. He was fidgeting. Something he'd never done in her presence, and likely not since he was still a child. Something had gone very wrong in the five years since she'd seen them, and she knew that it wasn't his fault. He had been on ice the whole time, hadn't changed a bit.</p><p>It was Cortana that had changed, that was falling to pieces slowly, bit by bit, and he was suffering from losing the only constant he knew of. She remembered the time on the <em>Shadow of Intent</em>, with his visor staring over the frozen, corrupted recording of Cortana. She had felt her own world starting to shake when the AI had been left behind. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for the Chief, having spent longer with Cortana, having been watched over by the AI in the blackness of the void after the Ark portal collapsed and separated the two Spartans.</p><p>She had spent many sleepless nights thinking of the two, believing they had finally both given everything to end the war. Spartans had been made to give everything, to fight the war, to win it, to die in it. It was their job description simply to fight until the fighting was done or until there was no fight left in them and their life slipped away, their job done in some way or another. That was what she had believed. That he had accomplished his last objective, that he had made it through to the instant the clock struck midnight and was snuffed out at the very end.</p><p>But he hadn't. He was still here, and thinking about it, she realized that he was just like her. They had both lost so many of their brothers and sisters, and it seemed that all he had left now was Cortana, and the next mission, similar to how she had been at the end of it all, but Morgan had moved on and made a life outside of a war, had become something more than just a Spartan. She had become Human.</p><p>But had He? She had no idea. It was entirely possible that Cortana was all that kept him going now. She had been his guardian angel in the years in the darkness, had been his guiding force during the first Halo conflict, and even been what pushed him through the final hours of the war when they had reclaimed her, had been the one to personally fire the ring prematurely and bring an end to that damnable conflict.</p><p>Then her thoughts melted away, retreated back into the box that she kept them in with the rest of her ghosts. Maybe Kat was finally good for something, and was keeping her thoughts on a leash. Then again, maybe Kat had finally gotten tired of harassing her over the years and went back to that little village of habitation modules for good.</p><p>She doubted it.</p><p>The Chief stood there, watching her, his visor not saying anything. That was one luxury that visors afforded them. Spartans could tell their siblings' body movements down to a hair's accuracy, owing to the fact that faces were always covered. She almost wanted to tell him to take the damned thing off for a little while, let his skin see the light of day, but that wasn't her place. If he wanted to keep himself sealed away, then who was she to say otherwise?</p><p>He waited patiently, his fidgeting having stopped at some point. "Tell me, Chief… do you honestly think we can finish this and get her back to Earth? Get her fixed up and keep her going?"</p><p>There was no hesitation this time. "I do."</p><p>"And how much are you willing to sacrifice to take these risks?"</p><p>"Everything."</p><p>"Including your life? Mine?"</p><p>There was a pause to his answer this time. Eventually, he answered, but it was longer than the other pauses. "I'd give my life to save Cortana, to save Humanity. But…"</p><p>Morgan waited, her arms crossed, and the Chief went on.</p><p>"...I don't know if I could put the rest of the ship or crew at risk."</p><p>Doubt. Another first. Morgan simply nodded. "I see. Keep her rampancy a secret from Del Rio and Lasky. Most importantly Del Rio. Lasky is a wild card. You have my support, but… it's all up in the air from here."</p><p>He started to respond, but she cut him off. "That being said, I truly do hope we can find this fix of yours, stop the Didact, and get you two <em>home</em>. It's been too long, and the two of you could use a break." She looked down at the deck, her shoulders falling as she felt the stress of the situation hitting her like a sack of bricks. When she finally looked back up at him, her face was set in stone. "It's good to have you both back. That'll be all, Master Chief."</p><p>Her helmet came back up as he nodded, and it sealed her back inside as she turned her back and left, her mind filled with even more to keep her unsettled about the future at hand and what this might mean for not only her, or the pair that she had just left in that room, but for all of Humanity.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Rough Riders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>It's been a while since my last upload. I'm not dead, I'm not leaving the story unfinished, I promise. Last year was a bit... well, we all know how last year went. The muse left and I kinda lost the way on where I was going. But, here we are! I won't promise when my next upload will come, but it will, one day. Thanks for sticking with me after so much radio silence.</strong>
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  <em>What is fate, but a collection of hourglasses full of enough sand to fill the beach a thousand times over?</em>
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<hr/><p>Morgan's battle rifle clacked as she pulled the bolt back and let it catch a round, pushing forward and shoving it out of the magazine. The round slid into the chamber and the bolt closed on it with one last flicker of brass in the overhead lighting of Hangar 20B-H. Her weapon was full and she was ready to step back out onto the field. Her team was with her, their usual loadouts plus more ready as they waited.</p><p>In front of them, a Mammoth Super Heavy Siege vehicle was letting down its rear gate, exposing its interior, full of techs and the computer banks and machinery needed to move such a monster. Boxes of weapons and ammo were being shuttled onboard as well and pushed into slots on weapon racks. Even a pair of Warthogs were being loaded inside, one armed with a chaingun, as was normal, and the other with a heavy gauss cannon.</p><p>Each person on her team was carrying two primary weapons, most of them with their normal primary, modified or otherwise, and a secondary that complemented it. They were loaded down with extra ammo and extra pouches had been attached to spots on their armor. Sidearms were carried as well, but those were looking more and more like last resorts or emergency measures if both weapons ran dry during a heavy spot in a fight.</p><p>They had been briefed already, and would be mounting up for a six hour drive, rolling out of the long gangplanks <em>Infinity</em> had for her Mammoth hangars before she lifted off the ground again and took to the skies. The engineering and maintenance crews had done their best, and it showed. All of the ship's systems were back online and running, but they weren't certain of her ventral armor after the impact. If anything got beneath them, they might have a weak spot.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of green, and turned further towards it. The Master Chief was loaded up as well, an MA5C in his hands and the stock of a SAW peeking over his shoulder.</p><p>Prepping the battle rifle in her hands, she was for once without a shotgun, something almost unheard of. A Spartan Laser was hooked to her back, the weight more than noticeable when she was rarely seen with anything more than small arms. Glancing up to August, she jerked her head towards the Mammoth. He nodded without a word and held his hand up to the team, waiting for them all to look before he moved his wrist in a circle and pointed to the interior. They all started moving at that signal and left their commander alone.</p><p>The Chief stopped short, looking at her as she laid eyes on him again. "Commander."</p><p>She felt a hint of a frown. "Chief. You ready for this?"</p><p>"Yes, ma'am. Always."</p><p>She nodded slowly. "Good." They had both been at the briefing, one of the rooms next to the bridge having housed Fireteam Crown and the Chief, as well as multiple Marines that would be embarked inside the Mammoth, the crew, and air crews that might be used in the fight. He had heard it all, so she didn't have to rehash it. "You have a plan to catch the Didact yet?"</p><p>He slowly shook his head. It seemed he was going to have to make it up on the fly as he went. They were all good at that, but she thought he might be the best. "Fair enough. Let's load up then."</p><p>Without another word, she turned and headed up the ramp into the Mammoth, moving up the stairs from the well deck to the command deck, where Lasky was already waiting for her, along with multiple technicians. "I see you didn't get enough of your trip through the jungle with us, Commander."</p><p>Lasky looked back at her, giving her a half smile. "It gets boring on the ship."</p><p>She returned it through her visor, knowing he wouldn't see it anyway. "You can say that again, but it's probably a good idea to learn to love the boring."</p><p>Lasky seemed to mull it over, before nodding slowly. "I think I'll take that to heart next time, but until then, I'd like to get some air. Bridge gets a little stuffy."</p><p>"Nobody said you had to stay on the bridge, just the ship, and you have five whole kilometers to explore."</p><p>Lasky gave her a look that was almost a warning, and she took the hint. He spoke up afterwards. "Either way, we've got a long drive ahead of us. Ship's sending drones to the coordinates to get an eye on the area and initial scans. When we get in range, the Mammoth will ping the place and get more detail overlaid onto it."</p><p>"Sounds good to me. How do you wanna do rotations?"</p><p>"We've got enough crew onboard for a three on, three off skeleton, and fill the crew for operations. Enough Marines to guard the place and man weapons on top that aren't remote controlled. Spartans should be free to move around as needed. In terms of command, myself and Chief Warrant Officer Harrison can keep ourselves ready until something happens. You and your team can just stay on the ready, figure out who's gonna do what. There are enough of you to fully fill the two Hogs and you can stock some of the ammo and weapons that aren't being used into them if you want."</p><p>"Will do. Anything else?"</p><p>"Negative. You're free to do whatever. I'll be here if you need me."</p><p>Lasky turned away from her, attempting to ready the Mammoth for departure. Morgan took that as her cue to return to her team and the Master Chief. They were all on the bottom deck, either helping to fit weapons into racks or putting extra materials into the Warthogs. They set about prepping for their own deployments when the bullets started flying. They would react to contact as fast, mobile escorts able to deal with anything that got within the Mammoth's perimeter and go on foot if need be.</p><p>Twenty minutes passed before a red light on the ceiling of the lower deck flashed green, and the Mammoth's powerplant flooded the big vehicle's veins with energy, pushing it forward and down the heavily reinforced gang plank. Trees were in the way when the Mammoth rolled onto solid ground, but they didn't matter much. The sound of cracking and shuddering in the hull was all that came from outside as the Mammoth pushed through the dense jungle without a problem, growling as it forced its way through to its destination.</p><p>All that was left to do now was to wait, and hope that their job would be without too many issues.</p>
<hr/><p>Morgan had settled in for the ride, little else to do in the six hour trip aside from check and recheck her weapons again. Outside, the environment and their surroundings changed over time. The Mammoth had rolled through the jungle that <em>Infinity</em> had been brought down in and passed out of its humid embrace within the first hour, giving way to open plains that had rolled underneath the massive wheels like gentle waves. There had been wildlife in the area, but none of it looked familiar to her, and it all seemed to be skittish at the sight of the siege vehicle.</p><p>The plains had ceased their rolling at some point when she hadn't been paying attention, and had switched over to a rocky highland, and the Mammoth had pushed through a large break in what could have been a mountain anywhere else, but it seemed almost like the path had been made for just such an occasion.</p><p>Finally, they had come to a series of canyons, sun baked rocks and deep crevices, sheer cliffs and distant lakes below in artificially eroded lands. It was all almost natural in its own way, and if Morgan had set her eyes on it anywhere else, without knowing she was in an artificial world, she might have thought that it was just as normal as everything else. Then again, the Forerunners were good at the whole artificial planets and land masses thing.</p><p>Stepping back up to the bridge, Lasky was in place again, having taken the second shift from Chief Harrison so he could be ready to go as soon as they entered contact. He was still distracted with looking over the sensor readbacks, the Mammoth's sensors having picked up their targets from a range of twenty miles not long ago. They were getting closer, and their job was about to start.</p><p>With a thought, her armor sent the ready signal to Crown and the Chief, who had essentially become Crown Six, something that wasn't lost on her when she had slotted him into the team's roster. "What's our status?"</p><p>Lasky turned for just a moment, getting a look at her before he gestured her forward toward the small holo projector that worked as the Mammoth's situational awareness display and briefing table. "Initial scans got some of the place right, but there's a lot going on here. Sheer cliffs, landslides, and impassable terrain to the Warthogs. We'll need the Mammoth to make it through the gauntlet."</p><p>She looked over the display herself, her arms crossing as she stood next to Lasky, spotting the Chief coming up out of the corner of her eye. "And targets?"</p><p>"We've got three airspace denial assets to blow before we can get to the gravity well generator. Large scale particle cannons in the area will blow a hole in the <em>Infinity</em> with her shields down the way they are now. Final readiness report says we aren't going to get shields online any time soon, so this is a must." Swiping the display, it expanded, but decentered and showed three Pelican dropships coming in from the south, following one of the canyons at Nap-of-Earth flight to stay hidden. "Dropships armed with designator pods are coming to provide long range targeting information for the Mammoth's mini-MAC, callsigns Trident One One, Trident Two One, Trident Three One."</p><p>Morgan pointed to the Pelicans. "What if they can't get eyes on?"</p><p>"If the birds go down or bug off, we have short range laser designators that can do the job, but we'll have to get closer to our targets and that might not always be viable given the terrain."</p><p>She frowned slightly, keying her headset mic. "August, grab two laser designators. One for you, one for me. Hang on to it until I come down there. Will brief in a few."</p><p>"<em>Yes ma'am.</em>"</p><p>Looking back to Lasky, she went on. "Understood. Anything else?"</p><p>"Captain's gonna be briefing in just a minute. Hang tight and he should be-"</p><p>Lasky was cut off by the sound of an incoming hail. One of the techs called it out. "Commander, Infinity Actual, channel One Zero Five, Zero Zero Zero."</p><p>Lasky started hitting a few switches on the holo table. "I copy, put it through."</p><p>A moment passed before a small hologram of Del Rio appeared on the table, looking as arrogant as usual and with his hands behind his back, one hand holding the other as he was known to do. "Infinity<em> to Mastodon. How copy?"</em></p><p>The Commander took the initiative, being the field commander of the Mammoth. "Mastodon is reading you five by five, Captain. Standing by to receive brief."</p><p>"<em>Multiple targets in your AO. Mammoth scans sent back to </em>Infinity<em> have helped us define their kill zone and Monsoon has listed those particle cannons as priority one. Estimates indicate a direct hit could leave the ship a mobility kill that we won't be able to fix. Needless to say, that means your job must be done."</em> The small figure gestured as the Mammoth's systems synced with <em>Infinity</em>'s via data link, and the holographic representation of the area moved in time with the one on the ship. "<em>Trident flight will be designating with </em><em>guidance lasers and providing coordinates for the mini-MAC</em><em>. Jamming has been encountered in the area, so electronic interference is expected, and possible thermal as well. Be prepared to engage with handheld designators as a last resort."</em></p><p>The Master Chief spoke up. "Captain, what's the threat assessment for our operational area?"</p><p>Del Rio frowned, looking over the Spartan for a moment before he went on. "<em>Recon was not dispatched. Our intention is to blow through, destroy the particle cannons, and get the ship ready for departure. Recon would only give us another moving part to compromise our movements and possibly get entrenched, and the violence of action does </em><em><strong>not</strong></em><em> allow us to take any more time than needed."</em></p><p>The Master Chief didn't respond, and Del Rio went on. "<em>Unless there are any other questions, we're on a time table. I expect mission complete in the next hour and a half. The Mammoth shouldn't suffer any problems dealing with this assignment. Del Rio out."</em></p><p>With that, the small man on the table disappeared, and Morgan looked to Lasky. The older man's visage was slightly miffed, but he didn't say anything out of line, and neither did Morgan. The radio buzzed again a moment later, on the same channel, and Sarah Palmer's voice came through.</p><p>"<em>Mastodon, Spartan Sarah Palmer. I'll be your operator for this mission."</em></p><p>Morgan was the one to respond this time. "We hear you, Palmer."</p><p>"<em>I'll handle coordination between the Pelicans and the Mammoth with the ship's sensors, keep them on target and keep you advised of any changes we pick up. We're a hundred miles to your north, but be advised, signals coming from the area are leading back towards a hard point to your southwest that seems to be controlling the particle cannons, </em><em>a tower of some sort, considered possible secondary target if allowed</em><em>. Command wants you to clear the way, hit the target, and the </em>Infinity<em> will provide </em><em>stand off </em><em>fire</em><em>on</em><em> the gravity well generator once the cannons are knocked out</em><em>."</em></p><p>Morgan nodded to the Chief, and he moved downstairs back to the well deck without another word. "Copy all, Palmer. Crown will be riding escort. You'll be talking with Lasky more than me this op."</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma'am. Don't be a stranger."</em></p><p>"Never by choice, Palmer."</p><p>With that, Morgan stepped away from the holotable, and heard Lasky and Palmer start going back and forth as she went down to the well deck where the two hogs were sitting ready. August and Castille were in the front vehicle, with the Master Chief up on the rear pedestal that held the LAAG. The second vehicle had Hammonds and Wright, the gauss cannon empty and waiting for her to hop onboard.</p><p>Climbing up into place on the back of the vehicle and grabbing onto the handles, her thumbs reaching for the firing studs, and she settled into place. The front ramp started to hiss open and the Mammoth rocked on its monstrous suspension, before coming to a halt. The front Warthog eased forward, engine growling in the interior, the sound bouncing off of the walls as it pushed forward and out into the sunlight. The second Hog followed close behind, Wright adjusting the shifter to his right expertly and sticking to the trail the other Hog had made.</p><p>"Hog One, Hog Two, take left and right, stick close to Mastodon until we're contacted. Guns up, I'm expecting company."</p><p>Her orders received, the two Hogs maneuvered as if it had been scripted. Getting a look at the area now, Morgan could see the sheer cliff face rising to her right, and a nasty drop off on the left that opened up to a fall that ended several hundred meters below. They would be riding the wall this time. There was plenty of space for the Warthogs and Mammoth to maneuver, enough for three Mammoths to ride abreast with some breathing room, but anything could happen. Their first target would be hidden behind a bend to the right in front of them, two hundred meters ahead.</p><p>Overhead, three Pelicans hovered into view, their voices filtering in on the command channel.</p><p>"<em>Mastodon, Trident flight on station, prepped to paint a picture on your targets</em>." The male voice on the other end was cool and collected, the three Pelicans having popped up where the left cliff dropped off. They were on level with the Mammoth, not wanting to fly too high.</p><p>Lasky responded, the Mammoth setting off again, the huge wheels crushing stones underneath. "<em>Mastodon copies. Standby for additional tasking. First target, 800 meters south."</em></p><p><em>"Trident copies.</em>"</p><p>Morgan gave the order to advance a hundred meters from the Mammoth, to keep them in sight of the Mammoth's onboard defenses and to have ample time to prevent enemy ground vehicles from getting too close and getting underneath the defensive guns.</p><p>The Warthogs roared and fishtailed for a moment before catching traction and pushing forward, their guns swiveling and their passengers propped up on top of their seats, weapons ready as eyes peered through scopes and sights.</p><p>The small force was merely seven vehicles, with three of them being normal Pelicans, but they had the firepower of a force many times their size in the Mammoth's mini-MAC. It rolled forward behind the Warthogs with all the angry fury of the MACs that had been placed onboard ships for so many years now, and the firing of it on the first target would more than measure up to the trumpet of the ancient animal the vehicle was named after.</p><p>The Warthogs rounded the first corner, and Morgan's green eyes spotted their first target. A single sphere orbited by three curved prongs floated quietly, the red firing device in its core glowing an angry red in the mid day sun.</p><p>To their left, the Pelicans of Trident flight hovered into place, one of them going nose on to get a shot at the particle cannon ready for the Mammoth, still coming around the corner at a decent clip.</p><p>Comms chatter in her ear again. "<em>Trident One One, target acquired, painting first particle cannon. Jamming interference preventing accurate coordinate lock.</em></p><p>Palmer's voice came through, filled with warning. "<em>Trident One One, drop altitude, you're in the kill zone."</em></p><p><em>"Just a moment more, almost acquired…"</em> The Pelican continued to hover in place, trying its hardest to paint the target, but it couldn't handle the jamming.</p><p>"<em>Energy build up detected! Trident flight, drop altitude, now!"</em></p><p>Palmer's warning was too late, and the red eye in the center of the cannon lit up with energy, the three prongs around it acting as focusing arms. The shot left the cannon's core and crossed the distance to the flight of Pelicans in an instant. Light speed wasn't even a consideration when you were within spitting distance of a miniature sun.</p><p>Two Pelicans were vaporized the same instant the cannon had fired, gone without a trace, as if they had never existed. The third Pelican was nearly torn in half, the right wing and rear stabilizer gone completely, leaving behind blistered metal that had been melted down, white hot remnants showing their base.</p><p>Mortally wounded, the Pelican started to fall like a rock, spinning like a top as the pilot's first instinct was to throttle up and try to escape another shot. All it did was spin the ship faster, dropping towards the ground despite the pilot's best efforts.</p><p>"<em>Mayday, mayday, mayday! Trident Three One is going in hard!"</em></p><p>The pilot called out for help, and the six Spartans and Mastodon watched as it went in behind a series of rocks, followed by the sound of it impacting. Metal was torn again, echoing off of the canyon.</p><p>Morgan ignored Lasky's status update to Palmer in her ear, the call of a Pelican down coming second to her own instincts. "Mastodon, Crown is going to grab survivors and recover anything or anyone that survived the crash.</p><p>Harrison responded this time, with Lasky still busy. "<em>Mastodon copies, holding position until designators are ready to provide coordinates."</em></p><p>Behind them, the Mammoth halted, rocking on its suspension again as more Marines rushed onto the top of the siege vehicle, manning all of the turrets and watching the skies and ground while Fireteam Crown's hogs rocketed off towards the Pelican's crash site, inky black smoke rising into the sky already.</p><p>Her legs bent and straightened with each bump in the road as the Warthogs accelerated, shocks absorbing the heavy vehicle's kinetic energy and the engines roaring loudly. In her peripheral, she saw Hog One's passenger, Castille, waving at Hog Two. Morgan glanced over, only to see Castille start waving to the right. Following the gesture, Morgan spotted a break in the cliffside. Castille's voice came over the radio, loud and clear. "<em>Hog One breaking right, scans from Mastodon show this is where Trident went down. Follow us in."</em></p><p>Wright responded quickly, easing off the gas for only a moment to let Hog One take the lead, and fell in behind them without a word. Ahead, the break in the cliffside turned to the right, and they slowed to take the turn, before another to the left opened up into a rocky clearing, with Trident's only survivor bent out of shape and laying in a heap of metal and, at this point, open flames.</p><p>The right side was still red hot, and the bird had gone in tail first, most of the rear section ripped off and scattered across the clearing. The main body, from the troop bay forward, was crumpled and deformed. The nose had been crushed, the ballistic glass coating the ground all around the bird in glittering shards as Hog One led the way.</p><p>They split, each hog choosing the left or right side as they accelerated again. "Castille, when we get to the bird, you're point. Get the survivors out. Hammonds, take the gauss."</p><p>Green status lights replied without another word, and Hog One slid into place, rocks and dust kicked up as Castille threw herself from the vehicle before it stopped moving, legs already kicking as she hit the ground at a run and barreled forward. Morgan followed close behind as Wright threw the Warthog into a powerslide that had it stop with the front grille facing back the way they'd come. Hammonds slung himself up onto the gun and Morgan pushed for the Pelican.</p><p>When she made it into the troop bay, a fire had already broken out along the port side ceiling, where several wires hung sparking and more smoke poured out of a conduit housing. It was small for now, but it would only grow, and the fuel tanks would be going up soon, with the ammunition ready to pop off at any moment.</p><p>"Castille!"</p><p>"Cockpit! One survivor, status red!"</p><p>Morgan moved forward, seeing Castille was already at work on the pilot in the front half of the cockpit, the bubble canopies revealing the sky. The copilot was slumped against their station, and when Morgan pulled the body up to look at it, she could see where the impact had smashed their head against the console, leaving a dent in their helmet, a broken console, and more than a few issues where the controls had acted against the pilot. Frowning, she tore their tags from their neck and pocketed them. Castille was already on her way out.</p><p>The pilot, a man who now sported a limp and unnatural looking arm, was being carried along by the medical Spartan. Morgan trusted Castille to get the man stabilized, and called in the pilot's status. "Mastodon, Crown Actual, pilot recovered, copilot KIA. Sending Hog One to return with the casualty."</p><p>
  <em>"</em>
  <em>Mastodon copies. Moving forward to the break. Be advised, radar reports multiple </em>
  <em>dropship level</em>
  <em> craft inbound from further along the route, including a few Banshee escorts."</em>
</p><p>Harrison's call back to her was punctuated by multiple rockets from the MLRS batteries on top of Mastodon firing at the incoming bogies, screaming through the air and impacting against at least one of the enemy fliers. That would complicate things.</p><p>Castille was already loading the pilot into the front seat of Hog One, strapping him in and forcing herself into the small amount of space behind the seat. Only her leg and part of her lower body could fit. If there was a rollover, she'd be toast, but there was no other real way to put another person onto a gunned Hog like this.</p><p>Loading back up, taking the passenger seat, Morgan readied her battle rifle. Hog One had started rolling, with Hog Two following like a shadow. The whine of plasma fire filled the air, along with the chatter of rotary guns and the crack of gauss cannons on Mastodon's roof, before a somewhat distant explosion sounded.</p><p>Exiting the small area that Trident Three One had gone down in, the two Warthogs spotted Mastodon, having closed the distance and come to a halt to wait on the Hogs, mini-MAC primed and ready. Hog One rolled into the bay, and Hog Two followed, the Spartans disembarking and making for the roof quickly. Before Morgan could run up the stairs behind them, August grabbed the two designators that had been picked out before, tossing one to her and sliding the other onto his hip. Castille remained behind as more medics pushed down from the upper decks to work on Three One's pilot.</p><p>But that was out of her hands, and she and August climbed the stairs quickly until they exited back out into the sunlight and Morgan grabbed the designator in both hands, pointing it at the particle cannon as her comms lit up. "Mastodon, designator live. Fire when ready!" Calling out to her squad, she braced them. "Mastodon is firing, grit your teeth!"</p><p>One of the techs in charge of the MAC responded. "<em>Mastodon copies. Target acquired, coordinates entered. Charging. Charging. Charging." </em>A moment's pause. "<em>Shot, over</em><em>.</em>"</p><p>Behind her, the mini-MAC cracked, sending a MAC round out at many times the speed of sound, the heavy slug traversing the distance between the end of the barrel and the particle cannon in a fraction of an instant, little more than a bright white spear that penetrated the particle cannon and went out the other side with an ear piercing whine, tumbling through the air with the vast majority of its energy having been expended piercing through the cannon.</p><p>The hole that had been cored through the cannon was left empty for only a moment, explosions filling it with red and orange, secondary explosions rippling through the body and causing the cannon to start falling from where it had been hung who knew how many thousands of years ago, plummeting into the canyon below and smashing against the rocks out of sight.</p><p>All the while, the rest of Crown had been engaging enemy forces that had rolled up on them. Banshees filled the air, Ghosts and even a pair of Wraiths were on the field as well. Ghosts were slapped by Gauss rounds, Banshees pulled from the air by rotary cannon fire punching holes through them, and the Wraiths were bracketed by MLRS systems, rockets swarming for the sleek looking mortar vehicles before impacting and doing heavy damage.</p><p>The tide didn't ease up, even as Mastodon started rolling forward again, the Mammoth's defenses doing more than enough to keep the enemy at bay. Not like the Covenant really had much in the way of dealing with the nearly 500 ton siege vehicle outside of actual naval assets.</p><p>They pushed through the contact at speed, Lasky keeping the interior running smoothly while Crown and the Marines that had been dispatched roamed the top decks and returned fire, plasma fire and tracer rounds crisscrossing the open air between the two forces, with missiles and accelerator rounds entering the mix as often as they could.</p><p>To the left of the Mammoth, a Phantom suddenly peeked over the edge of the canyon. One of the MLRS systems on the port side of the roof was looking towards it, but had to adjust its aim just a bit. It still took too long, and fire from the Phantom's door gunner started to rake the platform, ripping the Marine on the MLRS turret nearly in half as it quickly closed the distance and a group of Elites jumped from the interior, landing on the roof.</p><p>Morgan watched as the nearest member of Crown, August, did something that she hadn't expected the big man to do. His weapon, of little use with a shielded Elite landing in such close proximity to him, was dropped to the ground, the teal armored Spartan closing the near-arms-length in an instant.</p><p>The Elite, in the process of raising its own plasma rifle in one hand while trying to struggle back away from the Spartan, was too slow. Three globs of plasma fire splattered across August's shields, the golden lattice activating and draining quickly, on the verge of breaking. August pulled back one massive arm and turned his body at the waist, before the speed at which his coiled form whipped back around turned his upper body into what was more or less a blur, even to Morgan's enhanced eyes.</p><p>The armored gauntlet impacted against the Elite's chest plate and punched through the shields, the armor, and then bare skin underneath, penetrating enough to go most of the way through the Elite and stopping against the inside of the backplate. The plasma rifle, clad in a shaky alien grip, was ripped free by her number two, and even before his arm was pulled out of the Elite's chest, the plasma rifle was turned on another Elite that had been engaged by one of the Marines with an assault rifle. Dropping the second alien's shields, August pulled himself away from his first target and threw the plasma rifle at his second target, venting heat as his light machine gun was grabbed from the ground. By the time he was back looking down his sights, the Marine had finished the job, the two exchanging nods.</p><p>Crown and the rest of the Marines were mopping up their own fights, and one of the MLRS turrets finally managed to get on target again, sending a swarm of rockets into the interior of the Phantom and causing a series of explosions that sent the craft into a flat spin, smoke trailing from the troop bay as it dropped back off to the left, disappearing over the edge of the cliff with another distant explosion.</p><p>With the roof of the Mammoth cleared, and the rest of the combatants on the ground at range, Morgan felt herself take a breath. The fight hadn't been all that long, and the enemy ground forces were being mopped up without much in the way of resistance. If that was all they had to deal with, there wouldn't be any problems. The armor was too heavy for anything to breach the Mammoth, and very little would be able to deal with the Spartans of Fireteam Crown, the Mammoth's infantry detachment, and the Master Chief himself.</p><p>Lowering her weapon, she looked ahead, seeing a Wraith take a salvo of missiles to the face and detonate in a flash of blue, the sound reaching her a moment later. She turned to move back down into the Mammoth, the bright light from outside dimming and disappearing as she entered the dimly lit interior of the siege vehicle.</p><p>Lasky was near the handful of Marines driving the big vehicle, and he turned to look at her as she entered again. "Good job out there, Commander."</p><p>She closed the gap, her weapon moving to her back. "Distance to the second particle cannon?"</p><p>A glance at one of the stations, where the tech manning it gave his answer. "A mile and a half, around another bend in the rock, Commander."</p><p>She nodded in understanding. "We'll stay ready. I'm not sure the assault force is necessary for the time being, short of another downed bird or a blockage in the path."</p><p>The other commander seemed to agree. "We'll stay buttoned up then." Lasky moved closer to the tech that had spoken, taking an eyeful of the display. "Estimate another half hour before we have visual on the third cannon. <em>Infinity</em> will be staying hidden over the horizon until it's offline, then she'll lob a missile for the jamming platform."</p><p>"Got it. Call us if you need us."</p><p>"Set on speed dial, Spartan."</p><p>With that, she left Lasky behind, traversing the stairs back to the top, where her Spartans and the Marines waited, watching the skies and the path ahead for any more unwanted guests. It wasn't quiet. Weapons were still spitting payloads at enemy forces. Wayward Banshees were brought down by accurate fire, Ghosts were pulverized, Wraiths lobbed inaccurate shots that only drew more attention than they could handle.</p><p>Turning another bend, a cave yawned open in front of them, curving along the wall to the right. The techs inside would know just how far it went with the Mammoth's sensors, but the sentinels on top would be left keeping watch the duration of the journey.</p><p>Morgan looked over all of them. Castille had made her way up since Morgan had gone down, and now she was attending to the body of the Marine that had been shot off of the MLRS turret. He was dead, of course, killed before he even hit the ground, but they still had to deal with his remains. His tags were taken, ammo and weapon followed, and then he was taken downstairs by a pair of Marines, confident that a Spartan would be able to replace the two of them with ease.</p><p>Something more important was on her mind, however, and her eyes set themselves on the olive drab armor that had replaced the battered Mark VI she had seen all those years ago.</p><p>Green eyes roved over the newer GEN2 design, more angular, almost alien compared to the older model that had been replaced. Cleaner, more pristine, not bearing the scars of who knew how many battles and near misses.</p><p>Her musings didn't last long, as the golden visor that concealed the wearer inside turned on her, and she saw her reflection in it. Neither spoke for a few moments, all quiet except for the rumble of the Mammoth's engines reverberating off of the cave's interior walls and the wayward chatting of a few of the Marines.</p><p>She took the initiative, wanting to speak with him while she had the chance. They were both busy, and the situation they were in didn't leave much time to relax and talk about all the missing years between them. Her mouth opened as she heard the comm channel activate, but she didn't get anything out.</p><p>"<em><strong>We </strong></em><em><strong>have asked you to give up your family, your childhood, your future.</strong></em>"</p><p>The voice that answered wasn't John's, filled with artificial modulation and the signs of corruption, one that sent another chill up Morgan's spine. Her eyes, tuned to the subtle movements of a Spartan in armor, saw him tense up, almost stiffening as if it had startled him, and the comm channel cut immediately.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell?</em>
</p><p>Her thoughts ran wild with the implication that had come from that single sentence that Cortana had spoken. His response was different. She knew about what was going on, he wasn't hiding it from her. Instead, he was trying to figure it out himself. She had no doubt that Cortana was trying to hide the full extent of it from him, to try and make it seem like she could go a little further.</p><p>Cortana had always been stubborn, a wild card even in the best of scenarios. From what little time Morgan had spent with Doctor Halsey on Reach, before the end, she had an inkling of where that side came from.</p><p>But if she was having outbursts, interjecting with things that didn't have any relevance or make sense, then it was hard to tell just how deep into the degenerative effects of rampancy she was. For all Morgan knew, they could have anywhere from a month to just an hour.</p><p>Cortana was old, by the limits of the UNSC's smart AIs, and she had spent five years in the dark, alone, doing nothing but thinking and watching over the sleeping Master Chief. It would drive even the most mentally stable Humans insane. Cortana's status as an AI did little for her, given she was created by taking a Human brain and essentially copying it over to an artificial intelligence form. It was why she was similar to Halsey in many ways.</p><p>None of that did them any favors here, and Morgan frowned. She forced the channel back open again. "Chief, what's going on in there?"</p><p>When he responded, several seconds later, there was a small amount of static in the connection, impossible given they were right next to each other. The signal shouldn't have been degraded at all, but it was, and she had some idea as to why. "<em>Cortana's getting worse.</em>"</p><p>"I had assumed as much. There's interference on your side of the channel."</p><p>"<em>I know</em>."</p><p>Her frown deepened, and she moved closer. A glance over her shoulder at the rapidly approaching exit to the cave, and she looked back to the Chief. "Can you keep going with her in your armor?"</p><p>"<em>Affirmative.</em>"</p><p>"Don't lie to me. If she starts causing issues, then I'll have to remove her chip until we can get back to Earth."</p><p>
  <em>"</em>
  <em>
    <strong>No</strong>
  </em>
  <em>."</em>
</p><p>The response was hard, and she flinched slightly. The Chief was refusing to remove her, even though she was already causing some issues with the armor, and very likely, could cause issues with him, given her interface with the armor used some of his own neural interface. "You know I wouldn't do it if there were other ways."</p><p>He was silent for a moment, and then he was cast in the bright sunlight again, glinting off of his visor. "<em>I know</em>."</p><p>It was going to be difficult. Not only because of their connection, but because of her own biases and Cortana's degrading personality. "When we get back to the ship…" She was slow at first, but forced some steel into her voice. "We're going to figure out how to deal with this, as soon as we get the chance."</p><p>Another pause, but no words came, only the minute nod of his helmet. He understood, and he would do as she asked, even if he hated the thought of it.</p><p>That left nothing more for them to say, and Morgan turned away, the sunlight hitting her own visor as they rolled fully around the bend. From here, she could see the area immediately ahead was blocked by a pair of waterfalls, deep enough that, even had the assault force still been on the ground, they would be forced to come back inside. Warthogs wouldn't be able to fjord that, and the force of the flowing water would be too much even if they could.</p><p>She frowned and moved to the front of the Mammoth's top deck as it rolled through the first small river that came down from above and flowed off the side and down into the canyons below. The Marines continued to chatter, some of them talking about how pretty things would look if they weren't so worried about being stuck here. The Spartans kept quiet, constantly looking around, keeping an eye out for targets. Even the Master Chief, fresh from the conversation they had just had, was back to business as usual, as if it had never happened.</p><p>Her radio crackled. "<em>Security force, Mastodon is half a klick from target two. Sensors reading it should be just… there."</em></p><p>On her HUD, another icon appeared, mixing with the information her suit was already feeding her. Behind a rock pillar that climbed into the sky, and in front of another cliff face in the distance, the second particle cannon peeked out from behind where it had been covered.</p><p>She keyed the mic. "Eyes on, Mastodon. Preparing laze."</p><p>"<em>Copy. Mini-MAC charging.</em>"</p><p>Pulling the designator from her hip, she pointed it at the particle cannon and held down the trigger until it pinged, indicating a good laze. "Laze up. Ready on you, Mastodon."</p><p>"<em>Standby...</em> <em>Shot, over.</em><em>"</em></p><p>Just as it had done before, the mini-MAC cracked loudly, the shot going out and traversing to the particle cannon before any of them even registered it. Once again, it cored the particle cannon, and their second target was downed as if it had been trivial.</p><p>"Good kill, second target is down."</p><p>"<em>Continuing forward toward next target."</em></p><p><em>"</em>Crown copies."</p><p>She clicked off the channel and the Mammoth grumbled again, as if angry that it was being told to keep moving after it had been in motion for so long, unused to such travel with the limited use Mammoths saw.</p><p>She stood there, her visor playing across the area as her Spartans continued to roam like wolves, prowling over the upper deck. The second of three particle cannons was down, and soon they would take the third, freeing <em>Infinity</em> from the ties of this place. Free to hunt down the Didact and end yet another threat to Humanity.</p><p>Despite all of that, though, she worried. She hadn't expected this when she signed up again. She had expected a standard tour, dealing with pirates here and there, training some of the best Humanity had to offer to be even better. She had gotten more than she'd bargained for.</p><p>Did she regret it?</p><p>No. Of course not. She knew that if she had said no to Greer, things right now would likely be going the same, but somehow different. The Chief would have come back and had to deal with Cortana's rampancy on his own, unable to trust anybody else. If nothing else, she was thankful that she was able to try and help in some way, even if it meant she might have to lie to Del Rio and Lasky to do so.</p><p>Still, it bothered her on some level. That she had even managed to stumble upon them in the first place. What were the odds? So low as to be impossible, and then some. A glance over her shoulder at him again, for only a moment, and then she was back to watching their path.</p><p>Was it fate? Destiny? That same seeming act of God that had kept her alive through Reach and returning to Earth? Who knew. She sure as hell didn't.</p><p>Beneath her feet, the Mammoth rocked as it hit a large bump in the path, breaking her from her big vehicle rounded another bend in the path, and as it pulled around fully, it stopped, rocking back and forth on its suspension. A call from Lasky was imminent.</p><p>"<em>Assault force, massive rockslide in the way. Mammoth won't go too much further without clearing it away, and it'll take too long. Mammoth's TACREP is saying there's a structure nearby that's feeding the particle cannons with information, through a small break in the cliff face. Estimate that's where we need to go from here. Spartans, disembark and check it out. Mastodon will remain here and try to clear some of this away."</em></p><p>Morgan looked around at her Spartans, all of them already moving for the stairs. "Crown Actual concurs. Moving to bottom deck and disembarking, sans Warthogs."</p><p>"<em>Mastodon copies, good hunting."</em></p><p>She followed in the wake of the other heavily armed and armored Spartans, moving down into the bottom deck and through a smaller door in the sides, dropping to the dusty ground below and watching the small door seal up behind her, the last to disembark.</p><p>Her weapon was up, and she looked over their formation. The Chief was in the lead, Hammonds and Wright behind him, August in the middle, and Castille bringing up the rear with her. She closed the distance, tapping Castille on the shoulder as she passed, doing the same with each of the others until she was on the Chief's side, slightly to the rear and the right, her rifle's sights acting as another eye for her.</p><p>He led the way through the thin cracks that acted as a path through the cliff face, barely large enough to fit two of them abreast. Weapons were up, barrels acting as an extension of the monolithic squad's bodies. Every nook and shooter's crevice had eyes on within seconds of coming into view, honed eyes picking out possible sniper nests.</p><p>Crown's members had all dealt with the worst the war had to offer, knowing how the Covenant worked. They were hardened, veterans all, in their element and equipped with the best that Humanity had after coming out of that dark night that had fallen on their species. They were the shining light, the tip of the spear, and the wrath of a species given form. Tempered, but ready to be unleashed at the first sign of opposition.</p><p>Armor that weighed hundreds of pounds, weapons and ammunition, the people inside it all, and there was nothing more than the barest scrape of boots on the dusty ground below. They moved like ghosts, gliding forward in silence, held in perfect formation. Eyes were glued to crosshairs or sights, fingers resting on triggers, hearts beating at a perfectly calm 60 beats per minute.</p><p>Morgan's mind was far from those thoughts. The war was behind her, today was more important. A new threat, a return to the old life she thought she'd left, and a ghost from her past back in the flesh with a few new cracks on the surface.</p><p>The canyon widened around them, letting them step into a large open area filled with more Forerunner structures that were gleaming steel, pristine despite the dusty environment they had been built into.</p><p>Every single building was a sniper waiting to peer out at them and pull the trigger, stop their advance in little more than an instant. Her blood was hot, her instincts were energized, she was ready. So was the rest of Crown, all of them thinking the same thing:</p><p><em>Killing field</em>.</p><p>And then hell broke loose. A trio of snipers, scattered around the buildings on the first or second levels, rose from behind cover just as several Forerunner knights warped into view, far closer and ready for a fight.</p><p>"Scatter!" The order was given, Morgan's voice hard as stone even while her rifle came up to meet the first knight's screaming skull. The heavy barrel of the rifle pressed against the orange terror, the trigger pulled back, the firing pin slammed forward, and the first round was sent screaming down the barrel and straight into the Knight's 'face'. Two more followed in the same fashion, and Morgan's finger timed her pulls perfectly enough that another burst was hot on the first's heels, and then a third. It was as if the weapon was on automatic. Such heavy rounds in rapid succession blew the Knight's skull apart and brought an end to one of the many fights that had broken out before it even started. The blank gaze given off by the golden visor betrayed nothing, only a reflection of another Forerunner brought down by her hands.</p><p>Crown had split like the branches of a river, all of them taking the fight to the enemy and not waiting around for a sniper to take them down. Reinforcements were on their way too, easily picked out by augmented and enhanced ears. Chittering Grunts galloped on stubby arms and legs, Elites prodded and commanded, waving their plasma repeaters and plasma rifles, and Jackal snipers growled and squawked in protest at even the thought of standing and fighting a squad of Demons.</p><p>The avian like aliens were the only ones who saw what had come running to deal with their presence. A single Demon could make short work of any of the smaller infantry or armor units in a timely manner without even seeming to take a hit. A squad of them in such a small area? There wasn't enough space for the near-mercenary aliens to properly snipe when every new attempt at peeking had lead ricocheting off of their cover at the first sign of flesh. The Elites and Grunts could be zealous in their cause, but it was nothing more than a paycheck to the birds. This was suicide.</p><p>It was obvious that staying here would be a swift death as August went head on against one of the knights. A blade on a skeletal arm was brought down in a cleaving motion, sidestepped effortlessly and broken off by the big Spartan, damn near as big as Jorge had been. It was turned on its previous owner, and with a flourish that seemed almost out of place on such a large fighter, the knight was bisected and fell to the ground.</p><p>One of the snipers saw what had happened, sheltered from view by the others, and started to raise their weapon. Just as their sights came up to their eye, they began to acquire their target, and all that was seen was the barrel of August's pistol, up and off of his hip, and pointed in their direction.</p><p>The first sniper to fall went down with a new hole in its head, and the Spartans continued to tear through the force that had ambushed them. It was just another day on the job. No panic, no requests for orders. They were each an army all on their own, all the traits of every soldier built into them by experience and training. A reinforced squad sized group of Covenant held together by zeal and little else was just a bump in the road. Even the Forerunner knights, big and advanced as they were, couldn't stop the momentum of even one of them.</p><p>Time had slowed in their minds, all of them experiencing that phenomena known as 'Spartan Time'. Two of them had lived in it almost their entire lives. The Master Chief had become more than accustomed to its slowed feel, the oldest Spartan in their group capable of gliding through time without missing a step. Morgan, far from a stranger to it, was just as quick and nimble. She had been out of the fight for too long, but the last deployment to find the Chief had shown she wouldn't be missing any steps. It all came flooding back to her further with every pull of the trigger. The rest, soldiers through and through, had been through Hells of their own without the advancements of Mjolnir and the Spartan augmentations. They'd earned their stripes, living in the mud and the blood of comrades and enemies alike. Now? They were stronger, faster, better than even any Olympian crowned in the past. They had been admitted to the mountaintop home where Gods had lived.</p><p>No Human alive would see them as anything other than Gods when the bullets started flying and the screams sounded. Every one of them would have paid an arm and a leg for a Spartan to have been on the field when things had come down to the wire for them. But that was in the past. Now they were the Spartans. They wore the name well.</p><p>The Covenant squad disappeared under their withering fire, leaving nothing but the Knights to slow the Spartans' advance. After all, what more could they do than slow them down? Nothing would stop them.</p><p>Like most of their fights, it was over quickly. Morgan finally lowered her weapon a few seconds after the echo of the last shot had dissipated into the air. Crown kept moving. The momentum had to be preserved, even if a Spartan could move from a standstill to a sprint without any issues. The basics of warfare couldn't be forgotten or disregarded just because most of them had new armor.</p><p>A Forerunner structure rose out of the ground ahead, climbing into the sky a hundred meters. Morgan keyed her mic to the squad. "Structure ahead. Think that's our secondary objective. Crown, standby just outside the facility, make sure nothing gets in and sneaks up on us. August, you know the drill."</p><p>As the Chief and Morgan moved for the door, the rest took up their positions and August gave her a thumbs up, setting up his LMG and getting ready for anything. He would keep them covered.</p><p>Next, she switched channels back to <em>Infinity</em>. "<em>Infinity</em>, Crown Actual, the Master Chief and I are going internal.</p><p>The next transmission lagged a few seconds, and she entered the structure, but nothing came through except garbled gibberish that she couldn't read. "Damn it." Squadcom opened again. "Crown, any of you register <em>Infinity</em>'s last?<br/>
Castille answered. "<em>Yes ma'am. Proceed inside, coordinates to follow.</em>"</p><p>A string of coordinates appeared on her HUD, and she forwarded them to the Chief as well. They carried on, deeper into the structure, and came to a locked door. She moved closer, searching for a control panel or a door lock, but nothing was there. She banged on the door, tried to pry it open, nothing. Grunting, she turned back to the Chief. "We're at a standstill now. Any ideas?"</p><p>He didn't answer, merely looked at a Sentinel that floated out of a nearby crevice in the wall and hovered its way over. It bypassed both of them, before closing on the door and sending a signal to open it.</p><p>Morgan and the Chief shared a look, and she shrugged, following the Sentinel inside as it moved through. They ran into more locked doors, branches in the path that the Sentinel left locked, leading the way through by opening specific doors. Morgan was beginning to think it was guiding them, as the coordinates were getting closer and closer until, finally, a last door opened on an elevator, where the coordinates pointed to. "Here's our spot, I guess. Ready to head up?"</p><p>The Chief's voice rumbled through his external speakers. "Could be a trap."</p><p>Morgan shrugged. "Sentinel gave me ideas and you were tight lipped. Come on, not like we have any other options."</p><p>He didn't answer this time, and they both went through the door and stepped onto the elevator. It was a quick ride up, silent, and ended somewhere near the top of the structure. They both stepped out into a long corridor with a terminal at the end, weapons raised. When nothing appeared and no threats struck out, they lowered their weapons and proceeded through, passing by multiple large structures that could have been anything.</p><p>Morgan nodded to the control panel when they closed in on it, and took up a position to watch his back. He moved forward and took Cortana's chip out, slotting it into the terminal. Morgan heard Cortana's voice a moment later. "Alright, something is going on in here… I think the cannons use these arrays for targeting information. Like old SAM networks used to rely on centralized radars. It's all automated though, so give me just a moment, and… there. Last cannon is down."</p><p>Morgan lowered her weapon, looking back to Cortana as she sent out the transmission to <em>Infinity</em> using the array as a signal bounce. "Cortana to <em>Infinity</em>, skies should be safe now." No response. "<em>Infinity!"</em> Another pause. "Wait… something is…" She turned quickly to the Chief. "Something's in here!"</p><p>Before John could move, even at Spartan speeds, she was gone, disappearing into the terminal. "Cortana!" The Chief reached out for her chip, grabbing it and slotting it into place again. "We need to move!"</p><p>They both started to head back the way they came at a run, before a new light bridge opened to the right. They shared another look, and Morgan knew they were both feeling the apprehension. "Cortana might be trying to guide us."</p><p>He didn't say it could be a trap this time, instead leading the way across to the door it led to, before it opened and sent them through another maze of corridors, dropping them out among a small flight of Sentinels that seemed to be waiting for them, all turning to point at a large door that opened as they moved closer. Inside, a bright blue beam stood waiting, and Cortana was inside it. She didn't move, and the Chief led the way once again. When they closed on it, she disappeared, and all of a sudden Morgan felt the pull of something too powerful to resist.</p><p>It dragged the Chief in, sweeping his feet from under him. Morgan was sent to the ground, armor scraping across the Forerunner steel deck before she was lifted into the air, and then the world went white as she screamed.</p>
<hr/><p>Green eyes flashed open, blinded by the sun above. A bright blue sky, far removed from the darkened ceiling of the Forerunner array complex, or the slightly greened skybox that had been what covered the canyon system they had been in last. She was on her back, lying in place in grass that rose up around her.</p><p>Morgan's first thought was to open a comm to her team, to get their status, and with GEN 2, it was easy enough. Simply think about it and it would happen. It was second nature now. "Crown, respond." Nothing. "Sierra-117?" Still nothing. She grimaced.</p><p>Standing up, she remembered the dream she'd had when she'd nearly been killed during the last few hours of the war. Noble had come to her, ghosts in a mind on the brink of shutting down. Nothing had happened this time to cause a return there, to that village where Noble had settled down to live their lives, figments of her imagination though they were.</p><p>But something else about this place was familiar. The grass was halfway up her shins, gently swaying back and forth in a breeze that she couldn't feel on her skin. A frown, and she closed her eyes in what felt like disappointment. The ship's recycled air and being locked into her armor any time she left, she was missing the feel of the wind blowing against her face. An oddity for a Spartan of her generation.</p><p>A sigh, and she looked around. Trees lined the side of an open field, boxing it in. They, too, shared the movements of the grass, though more reserved. Three sides, those trees blocked the rest of the world, and she felt more of that faint remembrance seeping into her mind. An old memory, faded as to be something that she thought she'd never truly experienced, that it was just a dream she may have had.</p><p>Too much had happened in her life to remember something that hadn't taken place in the last five years. Flickers of war and death pushed deep down inside, her mind's attempt at dealing with trauma that she never really noticed in the first place. Training on Onyx, crushing and yet defining at the same time, some of the few happy moments that had come before the long dark night that the war had been. Finally, the years she'd spent as a civilian. The sun had come out, and stayed out.</p><p>So, that meant this was all that was left of her life as a child. A faded memory of the days spent in and around Sapphire Point, a mid-sized city that had been the initial point for colonization. The planet's name was long gone to her, and she didn't care to remember it. Days spent in the city with her mother, a woman whose face was little more than a silhouette to her. All she could bring to mind was the sharp nose, the slender chin, the short, messy hair. It was a face that was covered in the shadow of time.</p><p>There was a pang of hurt, when she actually thought about it, and the big woman closed her eyes in an attempt to think harder on it, to force the memory into being, but it never came, and her mother was lost to her again. Opening her eyes again, she turned her back on the field, and she was given over to the view of Sapphire Point, before it had been turned into a graveyard, nothing but glass and bones. Skyscrapers rising into the sky, buildings getting shorter as they fanned out into the city proper, homes and suburbs, perfectly made by colony planners that were building a world's capital.</p><p>Her shoulders slumped, and she could feel a yearning for a past that had been wiped away. Fate had seen otherwise for her. She would never have that chance again, to simply be a child.</p><p>But instinct would determine things just as much, and her longing was cut short as she sensed a presence. Turning on it in a whirlwind, she was already bringing her fists up in a fighting stance, coiled and ready to pounce on whatever it was that had invaded her mind.</p><p>A hairless woman, with wideset eyes and a pair of slits for a nose. Her clothing was unlike anything she'd seen before, and the woman wore an odd headress. Eyes that were black with blue sclera stared back at her. She was unarmed.</p><p>That didn't stop Morgan from holding her stance. The woman had a view of possible hurt, but it could have been anything. Morgan wasn't the best judge of expression, after all.</p><p>She wasted no time in speaking, though, and Morgan's ears caught her voice. "You've arrived in a place that was never meant to see you, a world where your story ended long ago."</p><p>Morgan frowned, narrowing her eyes. "You know it's rude to start speaking in riddles before you've said hello?"</p><p>The joke fell flat, and the woman didn't react to it. "There is no need for greeting. You are an anomaly. There were many things that I planned, a thousand lifetimes in the past, but your part to play is no longer in sync."</p><p>"Explain." Morgan wasn't about to play 20 questions with a stranger, but she slowly relaxed her pose.</p><p>A moment of pause. "I am the remains of the memories of the Forerunner known as The Librarian, or First-Light-Weaves-Living-Song. These memories were intended to assist Humanity on their journey to assuming the Mantle of Responsibility, once held by the Forerunners. But that journey is imperiled, and so is the plan that was set in place by my maker." The Librarian gestured to Morgan. "You were one of those that were accounted for, and you were to play a great part in the plan that was made, the eventualities that it would create. You succeeded in carrying out your part of the plan, but you were meant to have fallen when it was complete."</p><p>Morgan felt ice in her veins. <em>Fallen?</em> Did that mean…? Her mouth dried out, and she spoke up despite it. "What was my part to play?"</p><p>"Your part, child, was to deliver The Ancilla to The Champion. Fate decided your beginning, but not your end. Now? You stand here before me, much as The Champion does. You were not expected to survive, and so your evolution was not factored into play. You are not safe here."</p><p>"Hold on a minute, my evolution? What?"</p><p>The Librarian's head twitched, and she glanced off enough to stare into the trees behind Morgan. A series of bells started to ring, those same bells that had haunted Morgan when the trauma had become too much. It was a memory, surfacing from her past. The bells had been here, at Sapphire Point. But the memory was pushed aside as The Librarian went on. "He has found us. There is no time to explain to you, but you must <em>not</em> follow The Champion when he makes his choice. You must protect him, for if you do not, then all is lost."</p><p>Before Morgan could go on, the sky flashed, and when things had come back to her, she was flat on her back again. The Master Chief was with her, but he was held suspended in the air, a lattice much like their shields surrounding him, spread out as if he was being held in a massive hand that was squeezing.</p><p>But there was no time to react, as he slowly dropped into a kneeling position, standing a moment later as if nothing had happened. Another voice entered her mind though, just as Cortana appeared on a nearby pedestal. "Are you two alright?" She asked, looking them both over with a look of worry. "Both of you just… your vitals were all over the place. Morgan was about to go cardiac, and the Chief… pinged KIA."</p><p>Morgan frowned at that. That was never good. "What happened? To both of you?"</p><p>John answered first. "Long story, but I know what the Didact is after."</p><p>Cortana seemed impatient, worried, as the Chief went for the pedestal and pulled her out of the system. Her voice filtered in through comms now. "I know, The Librarian filled me in on it as well when I got pulled through the system, but she didn't say what she did to you <em>or</em> Morgan."</p><p>That got Morgan's attention. "Then we all saw her?"</p><p>John looked back at her, giving her a nod. "It seems so. We'll debrief later, but we need to get out of here, now. The Didact knows we're here. Cortana, guide us out."</p><p>A route appeared on Morgan's HUD, and the two Spartans made tracks. It didn't take long, but they got a new route out through a portal, separating them from Crown. Almost as soon as they stepped back out into the sunlight, Morgan's comms pinged. It was August.</p><p>"<em>Commander, what happened in there? Your vitals are all out of wack and you dropped off the scans for a bit entirely."</em></p><p>"Long story, Two. We're split up. Head back to the Mammoth and embark with them. The Chief and I will carry on from here."</p><p>"<em>Negative, Actual. We </em><em>got retasked when the cannons went down,</em><em> saddled up with an armored force that managed to punch through. Got a platoon of heavy armor and a couple of Hogs. </em><em>You're not much more than a detour. We'll come grab you."</em></p><p>"Roger."</p><p>She switched gears, pointing to the Chief. "You're lead for the moment. I'll follow you forward."</p><p>He nodded, setting off towards the allied units that they could see on their HUD. She called for <em>Infinity</em> next. "<em>Infinity,</em> Crown Actual. What's your status?"</p><p>Del Rio's voice came in clear this time. "<em>We're in deep, taking a heavy damn beating."</em></p><p>Morgan frowned. If the ship was engaged, they were running out of time. "Does <em>Infinity</em> have a shot on the gravity well?"</p><p><em>"Negative, too much air traffic, we'll never be able to get a target lock with things crossing in front of it every other second</em>.</p><p>She cursed under her breath, but then remembered the targeting indicator on her hip, and an idea dawned on her. "...Are the missiles in question capable of locking on to the target designator?</p><p>A moment passed, and Del Rio came back. "<em>Weapons says yes. Keying the missile for your laser code now. Coordinates for somewhere with line of sight to follow. When they come in, get there, and get ready. Out."</em></p><p>Morgan didn't bother to reply, as two Hogs rolled up with space for each of them. They got into place and August threw the first one into gear, Hammonds following quick behind as she relayed the plan over squadcomm. "Coordinates incoming. We've gotta get to them and get the target designator into play. Everything else is secondary. Once we knock that out, we can get the hell out of here."</p><p>Right as she finished, the coordinates came in, attached to a message that she put in to her navigation system and sent out to the rest of Crown. "Alright there it is. Get there and let's finish this."</p><p>She didn't have to repeat herself as the Hogs adjusted their heading and they moved back out onto the main route that had been followed. The Scorpions were laying out whatever they had, main cannons and machine gun fire alternating as needed. Not much could deal with a platoon of the UNSC's heavy armor.</p><p>It was a blood bath for the opposing side. Covenant troopers were laid low by accurate fire, one of the armor commanders giving orders for the lot of them, barking over the comm like a seasoned NCO. No officer talked like that. At least, not one worth his salt. Forerunner constructs joined the fight as well, Knights being blown apart as if they were little more than a side piece. At one point, one of those big Knights, the ones that Intel had dubbed the Leviathans, made an appearance. It fired one of the big guns that had taken the place of a forearm and it hit one of the tanks dead on.</p><p>Immediately, the turret was blown off and fire spewed out of where it had been attached in a hot geyser, more flames pouring out of the engine bay and the driver's hatch. The NCO was quick to give the order to focus fire, and one of the tanks fired without even slowing down. The round went straight through the center of the Leviathan, splitting it in half before it gave off an explosion that left little behind but bits and pieces, the NCO praising whoever had pulled the trigger immediately after.</p><p>"<em>Good guns, Juicy. Keep up the advance. We'll try and get our boy out after this, but ain't much left behind when you get ammo racked."</em></p><p>The Scorpions led the way, the Hogs using them as cover, and finally, they came to the top of the hill that would lead to their objective. Morgan was out and moving the moment the Hog stopped, already calling in to the <em>Infinity</em>.</p><p>Dropping to a kneel, she held out the target designator, keeping it as steady as she could and pointing it at the gravity well generator. "<em>Infinity</em>, designator is online, targeting information correct. Fire for effect."</p><p>"<em>Copy all, Crown. Targeting information received. Shot out."</em></p><p>There wasn't much to do now except wait. Things had quieted down. The Scorpions had turned to watch down the hill, their engines purring and their turrets whining with each minor turn. The fire from the tank that had been destroyed was still crackling, and ammo was cooking off in the hull still. The rest of the Spartans stood ready, and Morgan was completely still, waiting for the shot to come in.</p><p>Time passed slowly for them, nearly a full minute going by before, suddenly, a black rod streaked in on a plume of flame, impacting the gravity well generator just as the sonic boom rolled over them. The explosion from hitting it was massive, only increasing as the secondary explosion of the generator itself blew, sending out a heavy overpressure wave that could stagger even a Spartan.</p><p>It kept going, and after another dozen secondaries, it seemed to cool off, and the generator went offline. <em>Infinity</em> was quick to confirm.</p><p>"Infinity<em> to ground teams, good work. Gravity well generator is offline. Standby for pickup. </em>Infinity<em> out."</em></p><p>Sliding the designator back to her hip, Morgan gave a slow sigh, basking in the light from the gravity well generator's roaring fires. She looked back over her shoulder at the Chief, and though he wasn't looking at her now, he caught her staring and looked back for a moment. She was going to hound him for details when they got back. They both knew it. It was her job, after all.</p><p>But as soon as it started, the shared look was over, and the rest of the time passed slowly. Crown spoke among themselves on closed comms, and the Marines that had been their armored support unbuttoned their tanks and got some natural air before they started to talk on their own as well. Several of them started making their way back down the hill to the remains of the tank that had been destroyed. Without thinking much, Morgan sent Castille with them. She knew what they were going after.</p><p>Most of the ammo had cooked off by now, and the flames had died down a lot. The Marines stood and watched as Castille stuck her arm into the tank and took the tags from the deceased. They all made it a point to at least grab one of the panels that had been blown off and cover the hatch, thanking the Spartan for her help and taking a moment before returning to their own tanks.</p><p>Eventually, the sound of Pelicans came in, enough to carry all of the tanks and the two Hogs back, but one of them would be riding without cargo, given the destruction of one of the tanks. Stepping aboard the empty one, Morgan slid down into one of the seats closest to the door, relaxing a little bit. Hocus wasn't flying any of these birds. Given she had been on rotation in her bird when Morgan had left, her wife was probably asleep by now.</p><p>It wasn't new to her, going to sleep at odd times with Amber arriving later or earlier. It was easy to plan her sleep schedule around the other woman's when they were civilians. Spartans didn't require too much sleep, and she'd grown accustomed long ago to four hours being the standard, or sometimes the best she'd get.</p><p>Still, she was allowed to complain, wasn't she? She'd earned that much. Granted, she wouldn't say it in front of the others, but she could grumble all she wanted in the privacy of her mind.</p><p>The Pelicans loaded up quickly and mag clamped the vehicles before lifting off and setting off back toward <em>Infinity</em>. Be an hour or so trip with cargo underslung. The Mammoth, on the other hand, would have to wait for a time. Several of <em>Infinity</em>'s super-heavy lift aircraft would be coming in to pick it up and carry it into the ship when it got closer.</p><p>She didn't envy those pilots.</p><p>The Mammoth disappeared soon after that thought, though, as the bay door closed and sealed the Spartans of Fireteam Crown inside, secure for the flight back.</p>
<hr/><p>Touchdown on <em>Infinity</em> led to Crown dispersing, returning to armories to ensure their armor and weapons were ready for another deployment immediately after. Rest came when that job was done. With what Morgan knew of the Didact from her conversation with the Chief on the way back, they had to be ready to move at a moment's notice. She'd already spoken to the Air Boss to keep a second Pelican, and not a transport variant but a gunship variant, sitting alert with the standard rotation. If Crown needed to light out, they'd be able to do it at a moment's notice.</p><p>But now, that was in the back of her mind. She stood with the Chief, Del Rio, and Lasky, who had returned on an additional Pelican shortly after Crown had touched down. Palmer was in the corner. Bridge guards had been one thing, but since the bridge incursion, an armed Spartan was always on the bridge proper just in case.</p><p>Del Rio went on from what he had been saying, gaze on passing between the lot of them. "<em>Infinity</em> has finished all repairs from when we were dragged onto the ground. We're airtight, and scans from Monsoon have indicated an exit has just opened up to the outside. First order of business is to get the hell out of this place and return to Earth, leave a beacon behind to be found by more dedicated forces."</p><p>The Chief spoke up at that. "Sir, what about the Didact?"</p><p>Del Rio focused his gaze on the Chief this time. "The Didact remains a secondary concern. As far as our intel indicates, he's a single person without a true vessel. That does <em>not</em> indicate a threat worth sending this entire ship out. If he's as powerful as you say, then we are in his sphere of influence here and are at risk. Should we manage to leave this place, that risk drops significantly."</p><p>The Chief went on, more incessant this time. "Captain, I've <em>seen</em> what the Didact is capable of. If he manages to leave this world, then not only Earth, but <em>Humanity</em> is at risk."</p><p>The Captain paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. When he spoke again, his voice was low, slightly warning. The Chief could be seen as being insubordinate at this point. "And your proof of this?"</p><p>"I encountered a Forerunner AI of some sort in the array tower, a memory bank designed to guide us. She showed me the Didact's past, why he was locked away."</p><p>"A Forerunner AI that may very well be rampant, corrupted, or even a trick by the Didact."</p><p>"No, it didn't seem like a trap."</p><p>Del Rio frowned, the lines in his face deepening. "And you're basing this off of… what? <em>Instinct?</em>"</p><p>Morgan stepped in this time. "No, sir. I saw her too. She… knew things. Knew things about me that she shouldn't have known. Even <em>if</em> the Chief were compromised or tricked in some way, there's no way the Didact could have known about me the way she did."</p><p>Del Rio turned his eyes on her this time, almost incredulous as the Chief cut in again. "Sir, I know how this sounds, but I have to ask that you trust me."</p><p>The older officer's gaze was back on the Chief, anger seeping into his voice. Not only was one Spartan insubordinate, but two, one being his Spartan Commander. "You're asking that I trust you, an <em>aging</em> Spartan, and a malfunctioning AI? One that you deliberately <em>hid</em> from me? There is no trust to be had, Master Chief."</p><p>Cortana appeared on the holotable, looking sheepish, fearful even. "I…"</p><p>Del Rio gestured to her. "You think I didn't know? Monsoon has kept tabs on her since the moment she entered the system. Records indicate she was supposed to have been decommissioned this year. She's reached the end of her lifespan. Furthermore, all the telltale signs of rampancy are there. I didn't think that it needed to be said that I won't jeopardize the <em>Infinity</em> for hallucinations and malfunctions, but it seems that I have to. Denied, Master Chief." He turned slightly, looking to the nav officer. "Nav, as soon as all hands are aboard and secured, lay in a course for Carinae Station. Comms, prepare a warning beacon, repeating. Make sure nobody else ends up like we did."</p><p>In the background, Cortana flickered red, and the area started to glow blue as several displays were brightened to maximum levels. Electricity started to arc over consoles on the holotable, spreading out to the rest of the bridge. "I… will <em>not…</em> allow you to leave. This. Planet!" More electricity shot out, a power surge going through the bridge that charged the room enough for Morgan and the Chief to be covered in the faintest gold lattice. Their shields had been activated. Others were coated in static electricity, and a few of the female crew members with longer hair were witnessing their perfect buns be filled with flyaways and floating strands of hair.</p><p>All eyes were on Cortana as she changed completely to red, and after the discharge, she returned to blue, as if she had no idea what had happened, before she started to apologize, to plead with them, even to <em>beg</em>. Del Rio's face went from surprised right back to angry. "Commander Lasky, pursuant to Article 55 of UNSC Regulation 12-145-72, I am ordering you to remove that AI's data chip and retire it for final dispensation."</p><p>Morgan's blood froze up at that, and she knew she had to do something. Del Rio wasn't going to be swayed, especially not now, and nothing else could be done. It was all or nothing. Osman's words rang in her ear again, and she intercepted Lasky, who was seemingly stuck between following orders and the off chance that the Chief could be right.</p><p>She moved between the Chief and Lasky, her hand going to Cortana's data chip and pulling it out gently, the AI disappearing from the holotable as Morgan's golden visor turned on Del Rio. "Cortana will be dealt with at a later date. If the Didact isn't dealt with, then we are at risk. <em>Infinity</em> is a secondary concern against the risk of Humanity should the Didact escape and regain whatever it is he's trying to find."</p><p>Anger went to rage, and Del Rio rounded the table on her. "Commander, your insubordination has gone too far, and you presume too much, attempting to tell me what I can and can't do with<em> my ship</em>."</p><p>Morgan was unfazed, merely holding the datachip out to the Master Chief, who took it and slid it into his helmet. "This is no longer your ship, Captain."</p><p>His eyes widened, and he realized that he had not one, but two possible Spartans on his bridge that were far out of line, one attempting to go AWOL, the other in an outright mutiny. He glanced over his shoulder at Palmer, backing away from Morgan, and jabbed his finger at her. "Spartan Palmer, arrest her!" Palmer hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. "Arrest her!"</p><p>Turning her gaze to the Chief, she gave him his orders. "Master Chief, the gunship sitting alert is yours. Pack it full of the ammo and supplies you'll need. You know you're the only person who can stop him." He met her gaze, and nobody else seemed to move, despite Del Rio seething. "I can't go with you this time, John."</p><p>He shared her gaze for a few moments, as if searching for something, before he must have given up and realized it would take more time than he had. "Yes, ma'am."</p><p>With that, he turned and went to leave the bridge, but stopped when Del Rio shouted again. "Stop!" John turned to look over his shoulder at Del Rio, not even turning his body, only to see that Del Rio had pulled his sidearm. The magnum looked too large in his hand, and it was shaking slightly. Morgan moved around the table, until she was standing in front of the barrel.</p><p>"Master Chief, you're dismissed." It was all she needed to say, and a moment later the door opened and closed again. "Captain Del Rio, short sighted fixation on maintaining <em>Infinity</em> in the face of a possible extinction level threat to Humanity and your attempt at preventing direct action of any sort is in direct violation of ONI Directive 2554-61-B. You are hereby relieved of command of UNSC <em>Infinity</em> and confined to quarters until return to Earth and debrief by Office of Naval Intelligence personnel. Your sidearm, please."</p><p>Del Rio's jaw dropped open, and his pistol shook a bit harder. "How dare you-"</p><p>Morgan's hand went to the barrel, grabbing it and squeezing. The barrel and the steel frame simply crumpled under her grip, and the weapon became useless in a single swoop. Del Rio released it, almost instinctively, and she held it tightly, before giving another order. "Monsoon, open my personal inbox, most recent communication originating from outside of the ship."</p><p>Monsoon's voice answered. "<em>Yes, ma'am. Opening communication now. There is an additional message located inside of the transmission code. Should I open it as well?</em>"</p><p>"Open that message in particular."</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma'am</em>."</p><p>The holotable activated again, displaying the message that had come from the ONI Commander in Chief, Serin Osman. In the message, she was sitting just as she had when Morgan had first opened it, that same unnerving grin on her face. Del Rio's face went white.</p><p>"<em>Welcome back, Commander.</em>" Her smile grew slightly, and she seemed to wait a moment, as if expecting a response, but it was moot. It was only a recording, after all. "<em>I'm pleased to see that Greer was able to drag you back to the fold. It may seem a little… cold, to do this to you this way, but I like to get my hands dirty from time to time. Surely you understand, hm?</em>"</p><p>Morgan frowned behind her helmet as the Admiral went on, knowing that Osman had been put in place for a reason, and it wasn't because she was polite to everybody she met.</p><p>"<em>Now, Admiral Greer came to you with the proposition that you take over as Spartan Commander. You know this much. You have the credentials, the prestige, the skill, you're perfect for the job.</em>" Her smile dissipated now. "<em>More importantly, you're the only Spartan that fits that role while also having been one of us. Ackerson didn't skimp on </em><em>the </em><em>jobs </em><em>he gave you</em><em>, and he kept… very meticulous records.</em>" Another glint of a smile from the top grinning skull in the UNSC. "<em>The Navy was keen on picking a Captain for Infinity that would prioritize its safety above all else. ONI was… not so keen on that, </em><em>given they may turn tail too early in certain engagements</em><em>. We were able to get some concessions with Commander Lasky, of course, but that's not exactly what I'd call an ace in the hole.</em>"</p><p>Osman sat back in her chair, and it seemed like the entire bridge had frozen in place as the message played out. She relaxed for a moment, but that smile never completely left her face. It was mostly just the corners of her lips being upturned now. Morgan had no doubt the woman slept with a gun under her pillow. "<em>So… from this point forward, you've been not only reinstated into the Navy, and the Spartan Branch appended additionally, but you're hereby asked to remain as an ONI liaison. </em><em>Of course, this is all just a request from some old friends.</em>" Another momentary grin. "<em>I know you've made plenty in your time as a civilian. Surely you won't mind helping some others out, hm? You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Sounds fair, right?</em>"</p><p>The grin dropped again, and Osman sat forward, steepling her fingers on her desk. "<em>Should you accept, I ask only that you act in the best interests of Humanity and the UNSC </em>Infinity<em> in tandem. As a woman who's done what she has, I know you'll make the right choice. I look forward to hearing your response as soon as possible.</em>"</p><p>The message came to a close. Morgan had never gotten the chance to really think about it and send her response. There had been so much double talk and veiled statements in the message that it wasn't like she could just accept right away and call it a day. You didn't want to be associated with ONI unless you knew what you were getting into. That or you were a child super soldier. But she had initially thought on it for a time and never really gotten an answer.</p><p>Now? It was proving to be an unexpected blessing. "As I said before, Captain. You are relieved of command and confined to quarters. My authority supersedes yours in an event such as this." Looking to Palmer, all the fight seemed to fade out of Del Rio. "Spartan Palmer, please escort the Captain to his quarters and remain there until relieved by another guard. Post under strength squads to him for the time being in rotating schedules, one hour on, two off. Rotate squads every cycle. Remind them to be vigilant."</p><p>Palmer was hesitant, given how everything had just been shaken up so badly, but she followed her orders. "Yes, ma'am."</p><p>Palmer escorted Del Rio off the bridge without much fuss after that, the Captain realizing that his goose was cooked. Nobody went up against CINCONI and her wishes except Lord Hood himself, and even then it barely mattered. ONI got what it wanted. Parangosky had trained Osman well.</p><p>When the door sealed behind them, she looked to Lasky. "You're in command of <em>Infinity</em> now. I know you'll do the job well, despite what just happened. Can I trust you?"</p><p>Lasky hesitated again, likely fearing that he would be given the same treatment. Eventually, he nodded and repeated what Palmer had said. "Yes, ma'am."</p><p>"Good. Maintain current position, keep the ship in place. I'll ensure the Master Chief departs safely and then…" She frowned behind her helmet, realizing that she was not only going to be leaving him and Cortana behind <em>again</em>, but she would be actively sending them out. She would give them as much as she could. "Then we'll leave this place, head back to Earth, and hope to God that he can get the job done and we see him again."</p><p>With that, she turned from Lasky and headed for the exit to the bridge, the doors opening and sealing behind her, all eyes of the bridge crew watching her retreating back.</p>
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